The Road Home
by meixel
Summary: A junior inspector's first undercover assignment has him in uncharted territory over the holidays. Set before the series, Steve proves he is game for the assignment, but Mike follows his every move to ensure his safety. (Story stick close to canon; some HC and some adult language.)
1. Chapter 1

Don't own the characters. My first submission...timeline is generic. The show was set in the 70's, but at this point I'm trying to make it not specific to any era.

**Monday, November 22**

"I'm telling you, Buddy-boy, it's no problem at all. It's just Jeannie and me, and you know she'd love to see you. She makes the best turkey and dressing – just like her mother did. Uses sausage in the dressing and those sliced water chestnuts. And the pumpkin pie, oh man… It'll be great!" Mike beamed and clapped his hands as he and his young partner hurried down the hall at police headquarters. His pace slowed only as he remembered his dearly departed Helen, who died six years before from breast cancer. Holidays were a bittersweet time at the Stone residence from that point on, but as Jeannie grew into the fine woman she had become, it was as if Helen was alive again and that gave Mike a renewed sense of spirit.

Adding to his renewed sense of spirit, was the very person walking by his side, twenty-eight year old Steve Keller. Steve was three and a half years into his police career, having spent his first six months at the academy followed by eighteen months as a black and white. Afterward, Steve began a brief rotation of Narcotics and Vice, but that ended when a junior inspector role at the Bureau of Inspectors, Homicide Division became available. Within the last year, Mike and Steve forged a strong working relationship built on trust and mutual respect. Steve was more than willing to learn from Mike, who was regarded by many as one of the best cops on the force. And likewise, Mike recognized Steve as someone with great potential.

"Sure, Mike, thanks. You know I love Jeannie's cooking", Steve grinned. "I'm going into the station in the morning, but can make it for an early dinner. I told a couple of the guys I'd cover for part of the day."

"Before you say anymore, you pulled enough duty this year. You deserve a day off – and especially a holiday. You _always_ work the holidays and enough is enough. Besides, you need to put on some weight and there's no where better to eat than our place at Thanksgiving. And no suit and tie – come casual and we'll drink beer and watch football." Mike declared as they rounded the corner and entered into the Bureau of Inspectors office.

A wet and chilly November day, Steve pulled off his raincoat, hung it on the rack near Mike's office and grabbed a quick cup of coffee. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out two dimes and gave Mike a wink as he covered the nominal coffee fee for them both. Mike grabbed his cup and entered his office. As he circled around his desk, he saw a phone message that Tanner left on his desk.

The message was from Father Adams, a priest whom Mike had come to know through the years. Father Adams conducted Mass at the neighboring parish of Holy Infant near where Mike grew up. His and Mike's paths crossed twice on cases and a few other times through social events at both their home parishes. The first case was a domestic homicide with a longtime member of Father Adam's church as the victim. The other case occurred when one of the locals robbed a liquor store and killed the owner. After the robbery, the killer then broke into the church to take what he could by way of cash or religious artifacts.

Mike reached for the phone and dialed Father Adams, who answered on the second ring.

"Father Adams? Mike Stone returning your call."

"Oh, Mike – thank you for getting back to me so quickly."

"What can I do for you, Father?"

"I'm calling about the Mary Sheffield case from, what's in been…eight, ten years ago? Do you remember that Mike? It's when we first met."

"Sure, Mary Sheffield was killed by her son for drug money. We put him away and he's serving 15-20 for second degree murder and a handful of other charges. Sure, I remember that."

"Well, Mary's sister, Margaret, called me and told me that the son died in prison – a suicide. It happened about a week ago. He left a note – a rather detailed note – of the murder and his role in it. Apparently he did not act alone."

"I can be right over, Father. Will you be there?"

"Sure – I'll see you in a bit."

Mike hung up the phone – "Come on, Steve. I'll fill you in on the way."

Twenty minutes later, the officers pulled up to the parsonage of Holy Infant. Father Adams greeted the detectives at the door, escorting them in. After introductions, the three men sat in the priest's office.

"I'll get to the point, Mike. As I said on the phone, Margaret Temple, Mary's sister, brought this letter to me. It came to her from San Quentin as part of her nephew's belongings. The warden and guards apparently didn't open the envelope since it was sealed with her name on it. Anyway, the kid hung himself in his cell – no one saw a thing – at least there is no one coming forward. Margaret opened the letter and well, I think you should read it yourself."

Stone took the letter from Father Adams hand and nodded his thanks.

"_**Dear Aunt Margie: I have reached the end. I know it is time and I've come to accept it. I have some things to say before it's all over. First, I am sorry – so very sorry for all the pain and sorrow I have caused you. I never meant for any of it to happen. I got mixed up with the wrong guys. It started out so small – just smoking dope and having a good time. Then we got hooked up with a dealer. Hooked up. I got hooked – that's for sure. And then I couldn't stop. I needed money, so I went searching for her purse. It was late and I didn't think mom would hear, but she walked in. But the thing was I wasn't alone. One of the other boys was with me. He was the one that hit her. He kept hitting her and then she screamed. He grabbed the knife. I couldn't stop him. I was so damned out of it. And then she was gone.**_

_**But you need to know that I kept quiet because the other boy threatened to kill Peter. I couldn't have another death on my hands. I did so much wrong before. And there was more going on. There were a couple of robberies that ended in people being killed. I was questioned on those robberies and I nearly took the fall for those too. I did take the fall for Mom and kept quiet. The other boy – I don't know what happened to him, but he seemed to be more in with the dealer. The other boy was Caleb Sanders. He's the one that did the killing, but as far as Mom is concerned, it wouldn't have happened if it weren't for me, no matter who had the knife.**_

_**Aunt Margie, please forgive me for what I am about to do. I live in so much pain. I know that this will cost my soul, but I can't take it anymore. I deserve what's coming to me. May God have mercy on me and may He forgive me.**_

_**Love you forever, Artie."**_

Mike handed the letter over to Steve along with the envelope that was addressed to Margaret Temple.

"Had you any contact with Artie while he was in prison, Father?," Mike asked as Steve read through the letter.

"No, but Margaret visited Artie. It was difficult for her. It didn't happen right away, but she worked it through and eventually tried to forgive him. He was her flesh and blood too, and when she realized that he had taken these actions when he was not in his right mind, she began to understand that he needed her."

"She must have been devastated with Artie's suicide," Steve remarked.

"We may be talking to her, Father Adams. Do you think she'll be ready for that?", asked Mike.

"I think getting to the truth will help her find peace.", the Father replied.

"Well first things first: we'll take this to the DA's office. I don't know if it's enough for us to build a case, but we'll reopen the investigation and get that office involved."

"Thanks, Mike, Inspector…" And with that, Father Adams rose and escorted the detectives to the door.

ooooooooo

"So what do you think, Mike?", Steve asked as he started the car.

"I think we don't stand a snowball's chance in hell to get this Sanders guy if this letter is the only thing we have."

"But it's testimony…"

"Yes, Buddy-boy, but a good prosecutor would simply argue that Artie had a drug problem, didn't remember how it really happened, was delusional, grief stricken or wanted to take someone down with him. Take your pick. We couldn't even get an indictment at this point."

"Do you believe Artie's letter?"

"I don't know, Steve. I just don't know. But I do know, we need to find out more about this Caleb Sanders character."


	2. Chapter 2

**Tuesday, November 23**

Steve pulled in front of Mike's house at 7:30 am. He dropped Mike off the night before and took their unmarked cruiser back to his apartment. After climbing the endless number of steps to Mike's front door, Steve knocked. Jeannie answered, with a welcoming smile.

"Hi, Steve" – with the "hi" being quite enthusiastic. She grinned and perhaps blushed just a little. "Come on in, I have some coffee and cinnamon rolls for us."

"Sounds great – it's always wonderful when you are home," Steve returned the grin and perhaps even the blush, although he was determined to hide it as best he could.

Turning his attention to Mike, who appeared oblivious to the exchange, Steve called out his greeting and sat down at the dining table. Jean came around with the coffee and rolls, while Steve looked at the sports section of Mike's paper.

"So, first thing is locating Caleb Sanders and rattling his cage?" Steve inquired after reading about the 49-ers loss on Monday Night Football.

"That's right, Buddy boy. When I got home last night, I called down to the boys at the DA's office. They are looking at the Sheffield case file. We should be hearing from them this morning. We also need to pull any unsolved murders in that area around the time of Mary Sheffield's death."

Abruptly, Mike slapped his hand on the table and Steve jumped from behind the paper. "Let's get going. We've lollygagged enough here," the older man announced gruffly as he grabbed his coat and ever-present hat, kissed his daughter and walked out the door.

"Yes, we wouldn't want to be caught lollygagging," Steve mumbled as he stuffed the rest of the cinnamon role in his mouth. Then with a grin, he winked to Jeannie and was rewarded with a giggle.

Ooooooo

At the Bureau of Inspectors…

"We need something more, Mike. We need physical evidence. There's nothing to bring to a grand jury – except the letter of a suicidal killer. It just won't wash," Assistant DA Omar Hudson firmly replied.

Mike knew the outcome before he even asked the question the prior evening. The only option was to reopen the investigation and find Mr. Sanders to see if they could shake him up a bit.

"All right, Omar, we'll see what we can do to find this Caleb Sanders and we talk to him. I also want to hit up Margaret Temple to see what more she knows."

Only a few hours later, a current bio of Caleb Sanders emerged. A check of various records and databases showed that in the eight years since the murder, Sanders had completed his degree at Berkeley and was employed as a legal assistant at a mid-sized law firm downtown.

"Hey, he was at Berkeley the same time you were…", Mike observed. "You didn't have a class with this guy or anything?"

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Do you have any idea how big Berkeley is?"

"He's your age…."

"So were about 25% of the people at Berkeley at the time. What did he get, a pre-law degree? Poli-sci?"

"Actually, no – looks like he got a business degree with a minor in pre-law. Smart guy. Hasn't gone for the bar yet. You majored in criminal justice or psych or something – but perhaps you crossed paths in the basic classes."

"Criminal justice with a psych minor," Steve feigned at being perturbed. "Maybe we crossed paths – but you know, some of those classes were in auditoriums with hundreds of students. Hey, perhaps we were at the same football game together. Hmmm…" As Mike sighed, Steve asked, " So what's the plan here anyway?"

"Okay, wiseguy. I go down to the law firm, let's see…Gorenstein, Randall and Lamont on 4th and ask to speak to Mr. Sanders. I'll just let him know the investigation has been reopened due to new evidence and see what he does."

"And what is the new evidence…you going to mention the letter?"

"Not exactly. But we'll say that a witness came forward and we're trying to independently validate the story. That is what happened with Artie's letter."

"Okay – you want me to talk to Margaret Temple? See what I can find out from her? Perhaps she can provide more insight on Artie."

"Let's see you use that psych minor and uncover some hidden revelation."

Mike found Gorenstein, Randall and Lamont, which was located on the second floor of an old white brick building near downtown, immediately above a temp agency. As he opened the door, he noted that while the space was small, the interior was nice and updated.

"May I help you?", the receptionist asked.

"Yes, may I see Mr. Caleb Sanders? Lt Stone, San Francisco Police Department."

"Is expecting you?", she asked doubtfully.

"No, Miss. But it will only take a few minutes. Would mind letting him know that I'm here?" Mike put on his best, most charming smile as he looked at the young receptionist. He thought that if his younger partner were here, the receptionist would have fallen over herself to have Mr. Sanders not only called, but wrapped and presented with a pretty bow. He rolled his eyes at the thought.

"Mr. Sanders – a Lt. Stone here to see you," she telephoned.

"I'll be up shortly."

Before Mike could sit down, Caleb Sanders, a slightly built man with blonde hair and small features came to the detective, with his hand outreached.

"Lt Stone, I understand, I am Caleb Sanders. How can I help you?"

"Is there a place we can speak in private, Mr. Sanders?" The receptionist looked up and directed both men to a small conference room. "Thank you , Miss." And then, Stone turned his attention to his interviewee.

"Mr. Sanders, new evidence has come to light regarding a case of ours from eight years ago. The victim's name was Mary Sheffield, a 50 year old woman who lived in the city area near Holy Infant parish."

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand how I can help you."

"Well, Mr. Sanders, the man that was convicted in the death of Mary Sheffield has died and upon his death, we were provided with additional witness testimony. We just need to corroborate the story and thought that since Artie Sheffield was a known associate of yours, we'd check with you to see if perhaps something in your memory has shaken loose."

"Yes, Lt Stone, I do remember Artie and his mother. But I wasn't around when she died. I had only heard about it a few days later."

"Do you recall where you were on the night of Mrs. Sheffield's murder? You were asked that question at the time of the investigation, correct?"

"Actually, no. I was never questioned because I was nowhere near the crime scene."

"But according to the new information we have…well, let me ask it this way: did you talking to anyone concerning what happened with Mrs. Sheffield, or Artie for that matter. Did anyone ask you something about it or mention something to you?"

Caleb shook his head, "No, sir."

"is there anything you might have remembered through the years, but didn't figure it was important enough or perhaps too late to mention?" After seeing a confused, but perhaps nervous look, Stone purposely paused and then slipped his hand in his coat pocket to retrieve his business card. "You know, Mr. Sanders, if you do think of anything, please give me a call. Have a good day, sir."

"Yes, sir. You do as well," Caleb responded.

And with that, the lieutenant nodded to the receptionist and left the office.

Across town, Steve appeared at the door of the small but neat row house of Margaret Temple. He noted how much effort it must take to maintain the front of the house, which was beautifully decorated with roses, shrubs and a rock garden. Within the rock garden, was a Virgin Mary statue.

"Miss Temple," Steve inquired when the older woman answered the door. Somewhat obstructed by the screen door, Steve could see the woman clad in a housecoat with a dishtowel in her hand.

"Yes, I'm sorry, but I don't want to buy anything".

"No, ma'am, I'm not selling anything. I'm Inspector Keller of the San Francisco Police Department. Father Adams contacted my partner and me about the letter you provided him. I'd like to ask you a few more questions if I may."

"Oh, my goodness yes, please come in. And excuse my appearance." As she ushered Steve into her front room, she had him sit and offered him coffee or tea. "Please, let me get you something. It's not often I get company like this and I know you must work very hard. You officers are so underappreciated. Let me get you some tea or perhaps some coffee."

"Yes, ma'am, tea would be fine. But please don't go to any additional trouble."

As Steve waited, he looked around at the older woman's home. There were Catholic statues and other Christian items which adorned the modest home. Margaret Temple, a sturdy woman in her sixties, had changed from her housecoat into casual slacks and top. He could see a medal of a saint around her neck. Along with the wardrobe change, she had managed to pull together a trey of tea and cookies.

"Oh – cookies, thank you," Steve smiled. He continued as she poured the tea, "Ma'am, I wanted to know if you had seen your nephew, Artie Sheffield, while he was in prison and if so, if he may have said anything else to you beyond what was in the letter."

"Young man, I was so upset when my sister died. It took years and much counseling from Father Adams and others to even begin to entertain the idea of getting into contact with Artie. Mary was such a sweet, kind, God-fearing woman. She didn't deserve any of this and she was so young to have her life end. And for it to end as violently as it did… you just don't know how many times I speculated what she must have gone through those last few minutes.

But through prayer and counsel, I did try to find a way to reach out to Artie. I wrote him a letter. It took him several months, but he wrote back. After a year of correspondence, I asked Artie if I could see him in San Quentin. He didn't want to at first – he was too ashamed, but eventually I was granted permission to see him. You know that's the process, Inspector. The inmate has to give the okay for a visitor to come. Then the prison sends a form and then there's a process after that."

"Yes, ma'am. So how long ago was your first visit? By the way, these cookies are really good…"

"I made them this morning. Yes, it was about three years ago. At that point, we just talked about how he was doing – you know, how he was faring in prison. Then we started talking about the family and every day events. Eventually, he did talk about his mother, but never about the murder. It was just how much he missed her and that he was so sorry she was gone."

"Did he ever mention Caleb Sanders?"

"No – never, but he also never talked about 'the incident'. I don't know if it was because he was so ashamed, or that he didn't want to hurt me more. I just don't know. That's why his death, oh dear, and the letter were just surprises – terrible, horrible surprises."

"So he never mentioned Caleb or the murder. Did he talk about what he was into at the time of the murder or perhaps who his friends were?"

"He did talk about the drugs and how he was doing drugs casually - you know, not a heavy user. But then all of a sudden he felt like he was in over his head. He talked about how quickly that happened for him and how ashamed he was to tell his mother."

"Did he have a father?"

"No, Mary was a widow by that time. Her husband died of ALS. It was a terrible situation for her. I think that contributed to Artie's drug use."

"And who is Peter - he was mentioned in the letter?"

"Peter was Artie's younger brother. He'd be about 25 now. He still lives in the area."

"Were they close?"

"No. Artie killed their mother. Peter had nothing to do with him after that."

"Do you have contact information for Peter?"

"Yes, I do but not often. With both his parents dead and his brother incarcerated, but he distanced himself from the family including me. I'd be afraid to get Peter involved at any rate. He so despised Artie. He won't want to talk about this."

"Perhaps he will," the young officer offered. "Perhaps he'll want to get to the bottom of his mother's death and find some justice if someone else was indeed involved."

"Indeed," Margaret sighed.

Oooooo

About fifteen minutes after Mike had left the law firm of Gorenstein, Randall and Lamont, Caleb Sanders exited the building and crossed over to a nearby parking lot. Mike sat and watched as he saw Sanders' car turn onto 4th street and head north. Mike followed several car lengths behind. _Something __has __rattled __Sanders_, Mike thought to himself. After about 20 minutes through mid-town San Francisco, Sander's car came to a stop at a warehouse near the wharf area, but not directly adjacent to the Bay.

He radioed in and asked the dispatcher to have his partner call on another frequency. Within five minutes, Steve was on the line and they gave blow by blow accounts of their earlier meetings. After the visit with Miss Temple, Steve had seen Peter Sheffield. Margaret Temple's thoughts around Peter's response were spot on. He was a man who was estranged from his brother – and really estranged from the entire situation surrounding his mother's death. _You __never __know __how __a __person __feels __until __you __walk __in __their __shoes__ – __I __think __I __may __have __cut __myself __off __too, _Steve had thought.

It was Mike's turn to talk and he gave Steve an update with his latest. He had been sitting near the warehouse, waiting to see what Sanders was up to. Any cars or people that left, he'd catch a description or a license number. Mike told the younger detective that he didn't figure he'd be much longer and said he'd see him back at the station.

"Be careful," Steve said. "See you soon."

At that moment, Mike turned his radio back to the common police frequency. Only a couple of minutes later, he was advised to get on another frequency, this time at the order of Lieutenant Miller from Narcotics.

"Mike, what's going on? I just got a call from one of my men that you are parked in front of our surveillance area" Lieutenant Miller inquired. Surprised, Mike relayed at a high level what had transpired.

"Oh no, Mike – that's no good. You are staking out a hot drug operation and one we've been watching for some time. I've got a guy we've been trying to work in and another one on surveillance. He was the one that noticed you and your car. You need to get out of there now!"

"Alright, Miller. I'll head back to the station and call you from there. You need to let me know what's going on. We've got a murder case that we've reopened and one of our primary suspects is inside that warehouse."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N - thanks for the feedback. It's very much appreciated. Merry Christmas to all and Happy New Year!

**Later that day…**

Mike walked into the Narcotics division office, which was housed in the same building as the homicide unit. Rather than call Lieutenant Miller, he decided to hear first hand what was going on with Sanders and the warehouse. Additionally, Mike thought there may have been a little face to save with Miller since he made his way on to a surveillance site unwittingly.

Lieutenant Louis Miller saw Mike through his office window and waved for him to come in. Mike had known Miller as a rookie years ago. A good cop, he eventually transferred to Narcotics downstate - building a great career - and only recently returned. Miller looked every bit the typical surfer, only twenty years older. The tan, muscular frame still looked good and was seemingly enhanced by aging lines provided by the sun and whatever stresses he encountered while with the LAPD.

"Louis, thought I'd stop by instead of phoning." Mike said firmly.

"Mike, I'm glad you did. Have a seat. Look I'm sorry I had to call you off like that. The situation has been precarious and progress in this case has been slow, to say the least."

"Hey, I understand, no problem," Mike shrugged as he sat down. "But tell me, what's going on?"

"A few days ago, we busted a guy, a small player who was selling high grade heroin in back of a couple of the more 'trendy' clubs. He is a two time loser, so this time he would be going away for 20-30 years…even by California standards," Louis smirked. "We leaned on him pretty heavy and got him to talk about his distributor."

Mike was interested and leaned forward.

"So from him, we got a few names and a floating location where he'd get the stuff, but no physical evidence. We tried to get him to set up another deal, but this group had already heard about the bust - he was damaged goods. So no dice, but at least we had enough to start a surveillance. The names he gave allowed us to finally find a central location and from there, we've been tracking plates and watching who's been going in and out - that sort of thing.

Mike, this is a fast growing operation. We've tried to tap into bank accounts linked to the people that we've identified, but nothing. No money trail to follow. We're thinking they finance the junk with something other than cash. Gold or jewels or both, plus somewhere along the line they have to get liquid. We think they've been in on a few residential robberies - maybe even some pawn shops and low end jewelers to provide some capital."

Mike absorbed everything. "That's got to be a lot of jewels and gold to run a ring of any size."

"I agree - they've got to be doing something else - some sort of laundering or something - we just can't see it."

"You said you were trying to get a man on the inside. How's that going?"

"Slow - we've established a buyer and we're trying to get a man in that way. But I need to get someone really inside."

"What's holding you up?"

"Well, the main thing is I don't have anyone to spare. I've got another operation that's getting very hot - my extra men, such as they are thanks to budget cuts - are working that case." Louis paused for a moment. "Now tell me more about this murder."

Mike responded, "Well, it's like I told you - we had a guy kill his mother for drug money. He got 15-20 years on 2nd degree murder - and actually, I think it was aggravated. So anyway, the guy, Artie Sheffield, hung himself a week or so ago at Quinten. His aunt got his belongings and found a letter that her nephew left and, she in turn, gave it to her priest. The priest contacts me…"

"That's right, if the Vatican would ever need a cop…" Louis smirked.

Mike ignored the jab, "…and next thing is we're reopening the case and that leads to Caleb Sanders and the warehouse. Then I get a call from you."

"We?"

"Well, my partner went off on another lead and talked to the aunt and the con's brother. He's working the case, but he wasn't with me at the warehouse."

"Oh yeah, you got that young guy working for you. He's pretty sharp - college grad. Keller or Kelly or something, right? He had just transferred over to Vice when I came on back from LA. Heard really good things about him." Mike could see the wheels turning in Miller's head.

"It's Keller - and before you give it another thought the answer is 'No'," Mike went into protection mode. Not only was he protecting his own interest - after all, who wants to be down a man in a tight-budget environment? But he also felt like he needed to protect Steve. Steve had no undercover experience and Mike was not so sure he was ready.

Miller ignored Mike's protest. "He's East Coast, isn't he?"

"East Coast of the Bay, maybe." Mike smiled and shook his head. "I dunno - he doesn't talk too much about his time before Berkeley. I always figured he was a California kid because he went to a state school. He's mentioned Fresno before, but I never had the impression he was a native son here. Why are you interested in where he's from?"

"You're good, Mike. It's the buyer - we're trying to make out that they are from out of state. Bad guys generally know who is in the game locally. It would do our story some good if we can convince them we got players that aren't local. We could possibly get someone in on the inside that way."

His head shaking, Mike countered, "Aw, you are going awfully fast there, Louis. I just came in here to get the lowdown and now you are trying to draft my partner? Are you thinking of Steve - and not that I'm agreeing to this - as the buyer?"

"No - he doesn't look the part - but he does look like someone that could be a support guy or learning the ropes."

"What do you mean he doesn't look like a 'buyer'?".

"Believe me, Mike - these guys are bad asses and have been around the block. I've been thinking of Johnson for that - he's from the streets of Chicago and looks like he's been around the block fifty times. Hell, he looks like he built the road that's around the block."

Mike chuckled. "So Steve would go in as his right hand or something and then what?"

"Well, if Johnson is able to pull off the part, maybe this group might have a place for Steve in their organization. Maybe Johnson doesn't want to deal unless he's got some inside knowledge. You know, a little insurance policy compliments of Sanders and Company. It's a stretch, but I've seen it work before."

Mike nodded. "Sanders. Speaking of Sanders - do you have a handle on the role he's had in this thing?"

"Yeah - he's one of the leads, that's for sure. Has Sanders seen Steve yet, by the way?"

"No", Mike answered.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, we just reopened this case yesterday." Stone paused and looked down, thinking.

Louis continued. "So now you want to know how this could help your murder investigation. Mike, if this letter is the only lead you have, then this could be your chance to see him establish an MO. What is it, for a case you need method, motive and opportunity? You already know the motive. Drugs, right? Even back then. And now, we can get his method through surveillance and undercover work - and maybe even get some hard evidence on the drug dealing at the same time. All you'll need to figure out is the opportunity from eight years ago," Louis said as he pointed to Mike.

"Alright - I'm not agreeing to anything. This Johnson - I'd like to meet him before this goes any further. I've heard of him, but I don't know him. And if I feel comfortable, I'll take it to Rudy and then to Steve."

"And if you and Rudy agree, then you'll send Steve over to talk to me?"

Mike shrugged and gave a 'we'll see' look.

"You know, it's getting late - how about you, me and Johnson go have a beer? I'll give him a call. Hang on…"

Louis placed the call as Mike walked over to the window. He thought of Steve who was still fairly new in his career, but extremely bright. He was going places, that's for sure. And if he was working undercover with another officer - this Johnson character - perhaps it might be a good opportunity.

"All set, Mike. Meet you at O'Reilley's in about an hour?"

Mike looked at the clock on the wall - it was already after five. "Okay - I'll swing by and wrap up a few loose ends at the office and meet you down there."

oooooo

"Where have you been? Uncover anything interesting?" Steve inquired.

"Well, come to find out, I crashed a narcotics party when I was watching Sanders at the warehouse. Apparently, our Sanders is running with some big dogs."

This was not the answer Steve expected. "Well, now what?"

"I was just with the Narco guys and they filled me in on some of it. We'll probably hook up with them tomorrow and get an update." After a moment, Mike said quietly, "Hey - let's call it a night."

"Are you feeling alright, Mike?"

"Sure, Buddy-boy. I'll drop you off at your place, though. I have some errands to run and then I'd like to spend some time with Jeannie, too. She'll be heading back to school after Thanksgiving is over."

"Yeah…grab all the time you can with her. Okay, let's wrap up and get you home to your daughter."

Mike felt he wasn't being exactly straight with Steve at that moment, but he wanted to give himself the opportunity to assess the situation before his junior inspector was brought into the picture. He just wanted to look out for the young man - after all, that's what partners are for.


	4. Chapter 4

**Wednesday, November 24**

"Hey Buddy boy - it's about time you got in. I give you a night off and what were you trying to do, stretch it into two nights?"

"As a matter of fact," Steve paused, "I've been working this morning. I've been over to Records to pick up paperwork requesting that we pull the murder weapon out of the archives for the Sheffield murder. It's been eight years, but with forensic technology as it is, I thought it might be worthwhile to rerun the weapon for prints or anything else they might find."

Mike nodded his approval as Steve went on. "And then I stopped over at Parkway High School to see if there was a record for Caleb Sanders. I figure if we could get a yearbook picture of him, we could circulate it to neighbors and associates of Artie Sheffield since he was about 18 or 20 when the murder occurred. Might jog some memories. At any rate, he graduated there 12 years ago. I've got a yearbook and am working with someone in Print Services to get the picture blown up."

"Good work, Steve," Mike couldn't help but beam a little. _The kid is good, _he thought. _No wonder they want him on this assignment._

"Hey, come on in - I need to talk to you." Steve entered Mike's office. "Oh, and shut the door." Steve obliged and sat down.

Mike looked hesitant and immediately his junior inspector picked up on it. "Mike, what's up? Did I do something out of line? Oh, wait a minute - is this something to do with the budget cuts? Are you going to tell me…"

Mike interrupted. "No, no, nothing like that. You are fine. As a matter of fact I wanted to talk to you about the Sheffield case. It seems that we've really stepped into something here. I've had a couple of visits with Narcotics and Sanders is up to his neck in some sort of high end heroin distribution. It's a growing ring, Steve. There've been robberies too."

"So, what does that mean for us?"

"Well, Buddy boy…it may mean something for you and that's what I want to talk to you about. Lieutenant Miller has asked to use you for an undercover operation." Mike waited for that to sink in.

"Undercover?" Mike couldn't read Steve's facial expressions. "Doing what?"

'Well, Miller and another guy, Johnson, are working on a plan right now, but the bottom line is that they are trying to arrange a transaction and perhaps get into Sander's operation. Johnson would be buyer and you'd be his right hand guy."

"I know Johnson - I worked with him for a few weeks when I did a stint in Narcotics. He was a tough guy - from Chicago, I think. Is he okay with this?"

"Actually, yes. One of my "errands" last night was to meet him and see what he was like. He's solid. Good record, too. You impressed him while you did your time in that area. He thinks you could handle it with some supervision."

"You know, it's my first time going undercover. I don't think I'd want it any other way." Steve paused for a few moments. "Are you okay with this? I mean, do you think I'm ready?"

"You're a smart young man and you think on your feet. The only thing against you is inexperience. But I've watched you handle yourself on the street. You are fine there. And you'd be wired and Johnson will be around at least initially."

"What do you mean 'initially'?"

"Well, the plan is in two phases. The first phase is to be able to arrange a buy. It would be a small job - mostly create a ruse to get a sample and establish yourselves as serious buyers. Then, the next phase would be to get you into the operation. That's a bit of a long shot, in my mind. But to get you into the operation would give you an up close view of the operation, where they're getting the drugs, how they are distributing and where the money goes. It could be big."

Mike stopped for a moment. "Steve, I don't want you to jump into this. I want you to think about it. I also want you to talk to Miller and Johnson. Okay? Then we'll talk it over some more and take it from there."

"Okay, sure. I'll talk to Miller and Johnson today."

oooooooooo

Later that afternoon, Steve came back into the office. Mike looked up from his desk, trying to read the younger detective's mood and expression. Steve checked messages on his desk and found two that had to do with the work he began in the morning. The curiosity was eating at the Lieutenant and he could take it no more.

"Did you talk to Miller and Johnson?"

"Yeah," Steve craned his neck slightly. When he was a little nervous, he would sometimes crane his neck and tilt his head to the side for a quick second. He walked towards Mike's office.

"Well, come on in and tell me. What do you think?"

"Seriously, yeah, I think it could work. The first thing I think about is that we're looking at an old murder investigation wrapped up in a narcotics deal with some elements of robbery or money laundering. The implications are big. And perhaps there'd be some justice for Mary Sheffield and her survivors. Miss Temple, her sister, is still in pain over this and now with her nephew killing himself after possibly taking the fall all alone…I dunno…first and foremost, it seems worthwhile, to say the least."

Steve was quiet for a moment.

"Are you nervous, kiddo? Any doubts?"

"Hell, yeah. But it's because it's an unknown. On the other hand, I'll be wired and Johnson will be there. And then we'll see what happens after the initial buy."

"So, what are the next steps then?" Mike inquired.

"Well, Friday, I'll start working with an undercover 'coach'. They'll interview me and give me an identity. Along with the identity comes the basics - where are we staying, how to we stay in communication, how to work with a wire, and so on. Then, I'll spend a few days getting more training on how to conduct myself around the bad guys plus the basics around certain criminal techniques."

"Like what?"

"Like Drugs 101 (and maybe even 201). I've actually had quite a bit of that in at the academy. Then I'll be doing a refresher on basic tricks of the trade, like B&E, hotwiring a car, lock picking, practical stuff like that."

"Oh, practice stuff like that," Mike grinned and nodded.

"Well, if I get into the operation, it would give me a little more…how do I put it, 'street knowledge'. Maybe a little confidence, perhaps, if I end up with these guys?"

"Okay - so that starts Friday? So let's wrap up any loose ends you have around here today. I'll take over your work on the Sheffield murder and we'll take it from there. Hey, you're still coming over tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, I'll be there. Might be one of the last home cooked meals I get for a while!"

ooooooooooooooooooo

**Thanksgiving, November 25**

As the three sat down for Thanksgiving dinner, Mike grabbed the carving knife and fork.

"Okay, Buddy boy, you first - dark or white?"

"Well, ladies first, but when it's my turn, I'll take white," Steve smiled and looked at Jeannie.

"So, are you all ready for your assignment?" Mike asked as he served the turkey.

"Yeah, I wrapped up a lot of things and got my desk cleared up, so you shouldn't find too much undone."

Jeannie looked worried as she went back to the kitchen to get an extra utensil. "What do you mean? You're not transferring, are you?" she called back, with a note of concern in her voice.

Steve lowered his voice. "I guess we can tell her, right? I'll be a little scarce around here for the near future at least...although with Jeannie going back to school, it's not like she'd notice."

"It's okay to mention it. She knows not to say anything. We can't give her real particulars like who and where, but she can know that you are doing your first undercover assignment."

Steve nodded and as Jeannie walked back in, he answered. "No, I'm not transferring, but I am going on assignment for a little while."

"Undercover?"

"Yes. By the way, you outdid yourself with dinner here. Thank you very much!"

"You are so welcome. Now tell me, what type of case will you be working on."

"It's a drug ring. I'll be going in with another officer as a potential out of town buyer."

"Wow - you'll have a different identity?"

"Yeah, actually that's what I'll be doing tomorrow. I'll be meeting with this 'coach' who will help put together the background. From what I'm told, the best covers are ones that ring at least partially true. So while it's a stretch for me to be a drug buyer, it's not like I'll be going in there with a fake Chicago accent wearing a leisure suit or something."

Mike chuckled. "I don't know how they are going to transform a young guy who looks like he sleeps on a feather bed into a street dealer."

Before Steve could respond, Jeannie asked, "Have you told your family yet?"

"Um, no. I haven't. I should tell my sister in case she tries to get a hold of me, or maybe even tries to swing by for the holidays. It's not like I'm sure how long this assignment will last. Could be a few days or it could be a few weeks."

Steve had never mentioned his family before. Jeanne asked, "Is she local?"

"Well, sort of - she's over near the Tahoe area."

"Is that where you grew up?"

"Nah, I actually grew up in Connecticut, but I did move out to where she lived when I was a teenager." He smiled slightly. "Mike, my sister does have your contact information. Her name is Maya Washington. I should have mentioned her before. She's also my emergency contact."

Mike interjected. "Hey, you go to Tahoe sometimes to ski. Do you stay with her?"

"Always. She's a great person. Straightened me out when I was a teen. You wouldn't believe it but I was a bit of a handful back then. I'll have to introduce her to you next time she's in town."

The rest of the afternoon and evening was spent enjoying good drink, food and conversation, as well as catching the traditional Thanksgiving football game with the Lions. As the evening closed, Steve got up to leave.

"Well, I report over to Miller's area tomorrow, but I'll stay in touch. Good luck on the Sheffield case - I hope between the two of us we get to the bottom of this." He paused for a moment and stepped to Mike's side to where Jeannie was standing. "Jeannie, I may not see you before you head back for the rest of your semester , so you have safe travels." He reached over and kissed her on the cheek.

"You be careful too, babe. I'll be praying for your safety while you are on your assignment."

"Thank you." He turned to his partner, "Michael, I'll be talking to you. Thanks for everything."

As Steve descended the steps, Mike looked down.

"You'll be worried every minute he's undercover, won't you, Mike?" his daughter asked.

"Nah, every _second."_


	5. Chapter 5

A/N** - **After a holiday break, here are two more chapters. I didn't mean for this to stretch into a novel, but apparently that's what is happening. :) The bad guys are in the picture now and hopefully we'll see how our guys come out by the New Year or shortly after. Stay tuned!

**Friday, November 26**

The meeting with Mike Stone rattled Caleb Sanders. While trying to keep a cool exterior, deep down the man was genuinely unnerved. He couldn't escape the thoughts running through his mind including questions for which he had no answers. _Artie Sheffield, suicide - why now? What new evidence did Stone have? Who came forward? What does he have on me?_

Of foremost concern was his business venture with longtime colleague, Martin Bradford. Bradford and Sanders went back years - to Sanders' high school days where the older Bradford was a pot supplier to the youth in the Parkway High School area. Sanders went from being a customer to one that turned other kids on to what Bradford was selling. From the school yard, the business and the drugs evolved. Now they dealt harder drugs at community colleges, nightclubs and with private clientele including some of Caleb's coworkers at the law firm. It was a business relationship that worked for years. And while there was no honor among thieves, Sanders held fast to the idea that he and Bradford could trust one another and that their partnership would eventually yield the fortune and power they both craved.

Always one step ahead of the law, Bradford was the primary reason behind the new heroin supply from Southeast Asia. In addition to finding the supplier, he located a new source who refined the drug into a nightmare far more potent than the Bay area had seen before. In Bradford's mind, their ring was on the brink of hitting the big time, but the introduction of the new line was causing capital problems for the short term.

Sanders knew the ambitious plans, business knowledge and drive that Bradford possessed. He also knew that a rehash of an eight year old murder would force the pair underground and possibly close their so-called window of opportunity to expand the illicit ring they created. _What and when do I tell Martin?_, Sanders pondered. Would Bradford agree to lie low or would he kick Sanders out of the operation just as their fortunes were about to change?

ooooooooo

Jake Appleton, a consultant hired by several law enforcement agencies to groom officers for undercover work, began reviewing Steve Keller's police file and personal history. A former FBI profiler, Appleton's job was to create a viable identity for the assignment which would be natural for the young officer to fall into with minimal slip-ups. The more detail, the better, Appleton contended. They created a police record, complete with mug shots.

By the end of the morning, Steve had a new name and a record of minor arrests stemming back to his teen years. The mug shots tried to show some progression of age thanks to a few photography tricks and a mid-morning haircut done between shots, which left Steve very unhappy. Appleton then turned his attention to Chuck Johnson.

Johnson became Chuck Wilson, a native Chicagoan and drug dealer, who had manage to circumvent the law. He traveled lightly and his past record showed numerous aliases and former addresses. His record showed that he was suspected in several activities but proven at virtually none.

Steve Keller was now Steve Coulter, from Connecticut. Coulter was a hood with a juvenile record in the New Haven area and a few short terms stints in county lock-ups as he migrated west to Chicago. His record contained a breaking and entering, joyriding and some minor possession charges. By and large, he was portrayed as a young drifter on a slow descent.

Johnson and Keller's identities included vague references to some lesser known (and therefore untraceable) drug rings as well as connections to a couple of distributors who were actually federal 'plants'. The federal network was quite helpful in sanctioning the two undercover agents - with records loaded into federal databases and corresponding identification papers and licenses created.

With their identities established, Jake Appleton turned his attention to their attire. Steve, known to be well dressed and polished, needed to take it down a few notches. He was supposed to be street smart but also still only an up and comer in Wilson's business. "Dark clothes - jeans, hiking boots, look like you are ready for the street and ready for a battle," Appleton advised.

Appleton looked at the other man. "Johnson - ironically, you need to raise the bar a bit. You shouldgo to a stylist and for the love of Pete, get yourself some newer clothes." The redress gave Steve some consolation.

The final step to their appearance was something that went largely unseen. The wire. Both men would be wearing the latest technology in covert communication equipment. The wires were small and easily concealed. Not even a pat down could allow someone to know it was there.

As they wrapped, Lieutenant Miller arrived with the news that an initial meet was in process and that the agents would have their first contact with the ring in a matter of days.

oooooooo

**Monday, November 29**

Sanders entered the warehouse and saw Martin Bradford in the small office area. Martin looked up. "A buyer is on his way in from Chicago. This guy wants to see how good our stuff is and perhaps get exclusive rights to move the heroin into his town."

The look on Sanders face was not what Bradford had anticipated. The older man watched Sanders carefully. "What is it?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing. That's good news, Marty - really good news."

"Something else is going on, Caleb. You've been a nervous wreck for about a week now, so don't bullshit me."

Sanders paused and then looked at Bradford. "It's probably nothing. About a week ago, a cop came by to ask about Artie Sheffield. He said Artie committed suicide in San Quentin and new evidence had come forward about his mother's killing. The guy questioned me some and then gave me his card in case I remembered anything."

"Let me see the card." As Sanders obliged, Bradford sighed. "You got Stone on your back - he's a well known homicide cop. Geez, Caleb, you have to be careful with this guy."

"I'm wondering if we shouldn't lay low for a while."

Bradford became angry, but did his best to retain his composure. "Caleb, didn't you hear me? We're about to hit it big here. We're making inroads into other metropolitan areas - this guy in Chicago for now, but I also have other leads that are starting to come through. I'm not going to lay low. You can take a hike if you want or if you're scared, but I'm going forward."

"No - I've worked hard on this too. Look Marty, I just wanted you to know what was going on. It's been a week and there's been nothing else. I think if they'd had something, Stone would have been back."

ooooooooooo

**Tuesday, November 30**

As of last week, Lieutenants Stone and Miller had two things in common. The first was that they were both working cases which involved Caleb Sanders. The second was that they were both working with Mike's junior partner, Steve Keller. As a result, Stone's path was crossing more frequently with the senior narcotics officer.

First thing that morning, Mike stopped by Miller's office to check progress on the Sanders investigation and to see how Steve was doing. He hadn't seen or heard from his young partner since Thanksgiving.

"Hey, Mike - good to see you. And before you ask, Keller is doing just fine. He's Steve Coulter now, complete with a criminal history. Look at what Appleton put together."

Mike looked at the thorough detail the consultant pulled together for both Steve and Chuck Johnson. Steve's, in particular, was interesting simply because what had been created was so vastly different from the young man Mike knew - yet the identity supposedly drew from certain elements of his background and personality. Mike read further into the file and saw notes made on how quickly Steve learned to pick a lock and hotwire a car during the training. He knew Steve was sharp and could even understand how he could quickly pick up these types of skills. Still he wondered if somehow this identity was pulling from the 'handful' that Steve so briefly described at Thanksgiving dinner.

"We've been working with some outside connections to get Johnson and Keller in as potential buyers and we're arranging a meeting for this week. We found that Caleb Sanders has a partner - one Martin Bradford," Miller announced as he grabbed his notes. "There are also three other guys in the operation - they seem to function as drivers or bodyguards." Miller continued. "Our story will be that our guys want to get a small sample, test it out and will stay in town until they can buy more."

Now Mike was nervous - _it's happening and there's no turning back, _he thought. And while he was professional enough to accept this as an on-the-job challenge, he was also still very concerned about the young man's safety.

"Well, keep me posted. You know," Mike tried to add a little levity, "if this goes on too long, you'll need to figure out how to keep Steve stocked in sunflower seeds. The kid goes through them by the case."

"Yeah, we've noticed that. It drives Johnson nuts - shells everywhere."

Mike smiled as he got up and paused as he turned around. "Just get him back to me in one piece."

Others might have been offended by the insinuation, but Miller knew differently. "We will, Mike, we will."


	6. Chapter 6

**Thursday, December 2**

Harold and Benny's, an old neighborhood establishment near St Mary's Cathedral, was the type of place most people avoided. But for a sample swap of heroin with out-of-towners, Sanders and Bradford thought the bar was a good choice. Bradford had a table near the back while Sanders sat at the bar near two others, with one eye on the door.

As Johnson and Keller walked in, they scanned the sparsely occupied bar and made eye contact with Bradford, who invited them to sit.

"Bradford?" Johnson inquired.

Nodding, Bradford began, "Welcome to San Francisco, Mr. Wilson. Please, won't you and your friend have a drink?"

Johnson grunted, while Steve studied the drug supplier. Johnson realized that he needed to hide his disgust better. "No, thanks. You have the sample?"

"You have the cash?"

Johnson looked at Keller who produced a medium sized craft envelop containing five one hundred dollar bills.

Bradford continued, "You take the sample and see what you think. You want more, you call this number and tell the woman that you need to place a full order and then give her your contact information. We'll be in touch shortly after that."

Johnson said simply, "If this is as good as you say it is, I'll be in touch."

With that Bradford, pulled out a small envelope from his jacket and handed over the sample. Johnson handed it over to Steve, who carefully put it in his pocket.

As the two men exited the bar, Sanders looked over to Bradford, then exited his seat and followed the men out the door.

oooooooo

Anticipating they'd be followed, Johnson and Keller got into their rental car. Steve noticed a non-descript black Toyota behind them and recognized the driver as one of the men sitting at the bar.

Steve nodded at Johnson, "I think we have company."

"Let's drive straight to the hotel," Johnson directed and they continued on. The Highland Hotel was older, but not run down - selected because of the location and also because it seemed fitting for a covert operation that focused on an out-of-town buyer of moderate means.

As they had checked in earlier, Johnson and Keller decided to split up, with Keller walking over to the bar in the lobby to grab a cup of coffee and watch the black Toyota which had also pulled into the parking lot.

Steve sat by the window, making note of the car's license plate and watched the driver sit in the car for several minutes. _Okay, I actually do have all day to do this, so if you just want to sit there, be my guest, _Steve thought.

After about 30 minutes the black Toyota pulled away. Keller waited a few more minutes to see if he'd return and then proceeded to their room.

ooooooooo

"So whatja think, kid?" Johnson asked of Steve as he walked into their hotel room.

"What, of the meet? Well, we got the sample and we were followed. That I'm sure. The guy stayed in his car for a half hour, probably waiting to see if we'd leave again." Steve plopped himself on the bed closest to the door and pulled out of bag of sunflower seeds from his pocket. "The meeting - it was over so quickly. I think that's what surprised me the most."

"Yeah, I understand. You know, Keller, you were fine out there today, but don't let them catch you surprised at any of this, okay? You gotta have nerves of steel and you've got to be able to drive things our way. If we get a second meeting, they are going to be looking at both of us. And since you are the one we want to get into the operation, you've got to get a bit of a mouth on you. Understand?"

"Yeah. I can do that. Just not so big a mouth that I get my lights knocked out." He paused for a moment. "So what do we do next? Don't we need to have the contents analyzed?"

"Yeah, kid, we do. We have another car in the back - a Ford sedan, of course - keys are here. You're going to sneak out, take the car and meet Miller with the sample. He should be waiting at The Brick and Mortar on the other side of town. It's in the phone book - here. Then our guys will run the analysis on it and call us here."

"What are you going to do while I'm gone?"

"Clean up your damn sunflower shells, for one thing. Then I'm going to let my presence be known in the hotel, just in case Sanders and Bradford come back."

Steve smirked, threw on a different jacket, ball cap and sunglasses glasses, then left the room.

ooooooooo

As he entered the bar, Steve removed his sunglasses and let his eyes adjust. He compared The Brick and Mortar to Harold and Benny's from earlier in the day. _Not nearly as seedy and definitely a bit friendlier, _he thought as he glanced around for Miller, _and speaking of friendlier…_

He caught the glance of Lieutenant Miller who smiled and nodded. Sitting across from Miller, was an even friendlier, and craggier, face. It was going to be a quick meeting, but seeing Mike brought a sense of comfort that he hadn't felt in a few days.

"Hey," Steve said quietly as he sat down in the booth next to Miller.

"Hey, yourself. Got something for me?" Miller asked.

"Yeah, it's here," as Steve casually pulled the envelope from his coat pocket. As Miller took the contents, Steve removed the ball cap briefly and absently ran his fingers through his hair.

"How'd it go?" Miller inquired as Mike studied Steve's face to see how his partner was really doing.

"Well, I think it was okay. Very quick - just the transaction and then the comment from Bradford for us to call his messaging service should we want to place 'a full order'. When we left, we were followed, perhaps by Sanders."

Mike asked, "Can you describe who followed you?"

"Well, I didn't get the best look, but he was about thirty, blond hair, not a large guy by any means. Drove a black Toyota. Oh, and here's the plate number."

"Great, we'll run that. Good work. That sounds like Sanders."

"Yeah, he sat out in front of our hotel for a while and then left."

"No chance he followed you here?"

"No - I took the other car that was in back of the hotel. I also took a very long and convoluted way over here. Truth be known, I parked the car several blocks away, went through an office building and grabbed a cab. Call me 'paranoid'."

Miller smiled, "No, it's good thinking. What about the guy you dealt with directly - are sure that was Bradford?"

"Well, he said that was his name. The guy is mid thirties, maybe. Dark hair and eyes, stocky build - actually fairly muscular. Does he have any priors?"

"No, none. Given how long he's been in the business, we just simply haven't been able to make anything stick with him."

Steve turned his attention back to Mike. "Hey, Mike, how's your end of the Sheffield case going? Anything panning out?"

"Well, for one thing, there is a set of prints on the knife that didn't belong to Artie. We're running that now. Could be one of our technicians or it could be someone else. We won't know until we have something to compare it too. Perhaps you can figure something out if you meet up with Sanders again."

"I'll see what I can get my hands on. I had another thought, Mike. It's about Miss Temple. She gave us the one letter that got all of this started. I wonder if she has other letters that you can see. Perhaps there's a pattern or a direction that you can see in Artie's writing."

"Good thought, Steve. I'll check that out."

"Steve, you better go. We'll be in touch after we get the sample analyzed." Miller interrupted. "Keep your head, okay? I don't want this guy here on my case if something happens. Got me?"

Steve chuckled and looked at Mike. "Yeah, he's a mother hen sometimes."

Mike feigned a look of disgust. "Not much of a mother hen - I haven't been able to get you to cut your hair in the past year. Now you're with these guys for a week and look at you."

"Oh yeah," Steve looked embarrassed and plopped the ballcap back on his head.

"And the White Sox, no less," Mike sighed. "Could have been worse, I guess - could have been the Cubs."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: thank you for your continued support and comments!

**Friday, December 3**

It was clockwork. Barely eight a.m. and Miller had the results from the lab on the heroin sample Steve supplied earlier. It was indeed more potent and more pure than any he had come across in his time in the police force. Miller left his office and found a pay phone a few blocks away. He called the Highland Hotel and got Johnson, who was watching television in the room.

"The sample is good and it's potent. We've got to shut this guy down. Go ahead and leave a message with his service. Tell him to get word to you at the hotel. Let's get these bastards and anyone within ten feet of them," Miller ordered.

"Got it," Johnson simply said and hung up.

Keller put down his book and watched Johnson as he called Bradford's messaging service.

"Yeah, this is Chuck Wilson. I need to place a full order with Bradford. He can contact me at the Highland Hotel."

oooooooooo

Steve and Johnson waited the rest of the morning. With the exception of making a couple of food and drink runs, Steve sat by the window anticipating when Bradford would return the call.

Finally, at just before noon, the phone rang and Johnson grabbed it. "Hello?"

He recognized Bradford's voice. "Wilson, is that you?"

"Yeah."

"This stuff goes for 50 grand per kilo. How much are you going for here?"

"For this round, 5 kilo."

"Okay - that's $250 grand that I'll need in cash. I'm assuming you are good to arrange that? Can you do it this weekend?"

"Yeah, we have the cash."

"The "we" - is that you and the other guy that was with you?"

"Yeah."

"Okay - the other guy - it's Coulter, right? Got his name when I was checking you both out."

"Yeah, that's right.

"Okay - are you going to be needing more in the short term?" Bradford inquired.

"After we do some due diligence, Bradford. If we're going to build a pipeline from your operation to Chicago, I need to understand what you are doing," Johnson took the first step in the infiltration.

"Okay, we can talk about that at the meet. Let's plan for tomorrow evening after 10pm - at Launch Nightclub. Go in and tell them you're with the Sanders party. They'll take you where you need to go."

"Okay - 'Launch' it is." Johnson hung up the phone and looked over to Steve. "Well, kiddo, we're going to hit the club scene tomorrow night. You ready for that?"

"I'm barhopping with you? I won't meet any girls that way."

"Hey, you better watch that mouth…" Johnson smirked.

"Nah, I'm just practicing."

"Yeah, right. I'll call Miller and let him know what's going on. He'll pull the cash together for us and we'll pick it up before we meet Bradford and Sanders tomorrow night."

"What do we do tonight, then?"

"How about we head over to Chinatown for dinner and then make our way across the bay to a Warriors game?"

"Works for me. Hey, as out of towners, we should take advantage of the local scene," Steve said dryly.

Ooooooooooo

Mike drove to Miss Temple's home. As he walked up her steps, he admired the work and care she had put into the exterior of her home. As she came to the door, Mike noticed that she was exactly how Steve had described her. He could understand how Steve had become quite sympathetic to the older woman's plight. She had lost her sister and her nephew, and what was left of her family was in shambles.

"Miss Temple, I'm Mike Stone from the San Francisco Police Department. A young detective that works for me came to see you about the letter you received from your nephew."

"Oh yes, he came by after I had given the letter to Father Adams. The young man seemed very earnest about finding out if there was more to my sister's death."

"Yes, ma'am, he is and so am I," Mike said as she invited him to sit in her front room. "I was wondering if, by chance, you had saved any of the other letters your nephew wrote. I think it might be helpful to have a better idea of what Artie was thinking. Perhaps there's a clue or something in those letters that, now in hindsight, takes on more meaning."

"Why, of course. Let me get those letters. I keep them bundled together. Just one moment."

When Miss Temple returned, she handed Mike a stack of letters - perhaps ten or twelve. "You take these as long as you need them."

"Yes, ma'am. And thank you. Oh, and if there's anything else you can recall, let me give you my card. I can show myself out."

"Thank you - and you also give that young Steve my best. Very sweet boy, that one is."

Mike grinned and waved. _You charm them at every age, buddy boy._

ooooooooo

**Saturday, December 4**

Johnson arranged to pick up the cash from Miller. Typical for these types of transactions, the money was supplied (and hopefully on loan only) by the DEA as part of their crackdown on drug trafficking. It was marked and the numbers recorded for tracking.

At their meeting, Miller assured Johnson that there'd be an officer in an unmarked car no more than a block away from them at any given point of the evening. There was also plans for two more in an van, one monitoring their wires and the other prepared to drive.

"Chuck, another thing to know. We arrested one of the three associates of Sanders and Bradford. We got a line on him from the surveillance we did earlier. He had priors and was on parole. Cruz is the name - he actually had an outstanding warrant.

"What was his beef the first time?" Johnson asked.

"Burglarly. He had done a couple of years of a five year sentence at Quentin. He'll go back now for the remaining three. In exchange for him steering clear of Sanders or Bradford, we may look the other way on what he's been doing lately."

"That leaves Sanders and Bradford short on help."

"Yeah at least a little short. And if Stone is able to rattle Sanders on this murder, the walls are really going to start closing on these guys."

"Should I tell Steve about this?"

"No, not yet at least. We're trying to get him in the operation. If Keller knows there's an opening, he may try too hard to get in. You're the one that needs to guide this one, Chuck."

oooooooooo

Mike sat at his desk, reading through Artie Sheffield's letters to his aunt. The letters were generally short, especially at first, but then began to grow in frequency and length. Still, as he read through the letters, he couldn't find anything that indicated something they had missed. If anything, the last letter, the suicide note, was much more conversant on the murder of Mrs. Sheffield than all of the prior letters combined.

It didn't make sense, at least on the surface. Did Artie just finally snap?

Mike looked at the letters again and then placed the letters side by side. Then it suddenly it hit him. The writing on the last few letters were somewhat different than the suicide letter. While there were similarities, certain elements were different. How the "S's" were made and the loop on the "O's" was quite different. The suicide letter looked like it had been written with a harder stroke. Mike looked at the letters again, back and forth. _What is it? Why is this so different? _

Mike called the lab to see if he could get someone to assist him, even though it was a Saturday. At the moment, he had his doubts that the suicide letter was written by Artie.


	8. Chapter 8

**Later that Night**

The December night air was crisp, but not cold. Steve was dressed in a dark long sleeve shirt, jeans, boots and a dark denim jacket. Johnson looked a little more formal with casual slacks and suit jacket, along with a leather briefcase filled with marked $100 bills.

It was a busy night. With no available parking on the street in front of the club, Johnson and Keller were relegated to a parking lot a block behind the club. They quickly exited their vehicle and walked past several closed stores and alleyways. They remained observant as they made their way to the front entrance.

Johnson surveyed the street adjacent to the parking area and noticed the unmarked blue van and police car. Johnson looked at Steve and nodded over to the back-up. Steve let out a sigh of relief.

Neither noticed, however, the white sedan that passed them nor the two occupants that watched them as they walked further toward the club.

As they rounded the corner, they could hear the loud beat of dance music. "Must be the place," Johnson observed.

"Loud and busy," Steve agreed. The music was noisy enough that both officers silently wondered how that would impact the ability of their outside support team to hear what was being transmitted via the wires.

A hostess was near the door when Johnson announced, "Wilson party for Sanders…"

The hostess looked at Johnson and Steve curiously and instructed them to go up the stairs two flights and find the 2nd room to the right.

Once at the door, Johnson knocked.

Sanders opened the door and carefully stuck his head part way out, then nodded his recognition to the two men. He pulled the door open as they entered the small room. In the middle of the room was a table with five chairs. bbSeated with his back to the wall was Bradford, and flanking him was Sanders and Hernandez, one of the two remaining associates after Cruz's arrest. Thankfully, being two flights up and behind closed doors muffled the beat of the dance music.

"Wilson, Coulter. Please have a seat," Bradford invited, as Johnson put the briefcase on the table.

"Do you have what we want?" Johnson inquired.

"It's here."

"Let's take a look." Johnson suggested and Bradford obliged. As he opened the case, he displayed five plastic wrapped kilos of heroin. Johnson picked up one of the packages and remarked how much more compact the heroin appeared, suggesting increased density and difference of the contents. He handed a package to Steve.

Steve immediately began wondering if he could get fingerprints on the bags or the briefcase from Sanders and Bradford, but realized it would be appear too obvious at that point. "You are right - this has a different feel to it in this larger quantity," Steve observed comparing it to the small packet they had as a sample earlier.

Sanders spoke up. "It's a function of the different processing and its potency."

Johnson laid the briefcase on the table and opened the contents for Bradford to inspect. Bradford picked up the cash and began counting one bundle. Then he flipped through the remaining bundles and mentally calculated the two hundred fifty thousand.

"Satisfied?" Johnson inquired. "If so, let's swap these out." Johnson began pulling out the cash from his briefcase and looked at Sanders to load the kilos. Sanders followed suit.

"What I said before…," Johnson began, "the potential business in Chicago is significant. My contacts would like for me to perform a certain amount of operational due diligence before we do more business with you. I will return to Chicago with this delivery while Coulter stays here. He'll stay until we need another order. That should be in another 2-3 weeks. In the meantime, I want Coulter to be able to feel secure with your supply process and distribution channel. There's a lot at stake here for both of us."

Bradford nodded once unenthusiastically. "It's not a typical arrangement," Bradford said with some hesitation, but knowing that he was short a man with Cruz going back to prison, he did not refuse. "I need an extra man to help with deliveries and guarding. I can use him. He can bunk with Hernandez over at his place." Hernandez said nothing, but did quickly raise his eyebrows as did Steve.

Bradford paused. "He works for me and he does as I say. Do you both understand?"

"We do," Steve and Johnson both replied.

"All right then, come back here tomorrow night at 8pm. The club will be closed, but Hernandez will take you back to his place," Bradford instructed Steve.

Johnson lowered the lid on his case with the drugs and locked it, while Bradford did the same with the cash. Steve figured that the heroin packages had an ample sampling of Sanders' fingerprints which would be helpful for Mike.

"Tomorrow night then, Coulter will be here. I'll be on my way back to Chicago at that point. If you need to get a hold of me, Coulter can do it or you can call my service number directly."

"Same here."

Johnson stood up and extended his hand to Bradford which surprised Steve. "We'll be in touch."

The two men exited the room and descended the stairs.

ooooooooo

As they walked to their car, Steve and Johnson crossed an alley entrance behind the club. Steve held onto the briefcase tightly. The alley itself was only wide enough for walking between the two buildings. Johnson could hear fast paced footsteps coming from behind and turned to Steve, who also became aware of the sound. He was about to reach for the gun in his back holster when he heard the "Slllltttt" of a switchblade. Immediately, Steve felt an arm around his neck.

He and Johnson were quickly pushed down the alley away from the view of the street. Steve could only see one of his attackers, a young man of Asian descent, while the second man was holding him from behind. The second man had the switchblade and was directing it toward Steve's throat.

"Drop the damned briefcase..NOW."

At this point, Johnson had turned toward the other three men. "You don't want what's in there, believe me."

"We know what it is and we want it now."

Johnson paused. "Do you work for Bradford?" The two men looked incredulously.

One finally answered: "You do not need to know who we work for, just tell him to drop the damned briefcase or he gets it," as he nodded toward Steve.

Steve could feel the blade against the side of his throat. A feeling of fear was coupled with overwhelming anger. _This is not going to end here. _A variety of thoughts flew quickly in his head - perhaps his life was flashing before his eyes. But then the flashing pictures stopped and his thoughts turned to Mike. Steve knew how devastating it would be for Mike to lose another partner. And then just as quickly, his mind registered again with reality, and he felt the blade of the knife press harder against his skin. It was then he began to feel the blood trickle down his neck.

Steve's eyes focused on Johnson. Seconds seemed like minutes.

"If you want it, here…just let loose a little," Steve requested. He felt the pressure lift on his neck. Steve took the opportunity to quickly lift the briefcase at arms length to his left and slam it hard into the side of his captor's leg. Steve was able to release himself from the assailants grasp.

Never dropping the case, Steve shifted tactics. With a swift elbow in the ribcage, Steve caught his captor completely off guard and sent him staggering backward. Not quite without consequence, the assailant lunged at the young officer and then dragged his knife across the Steve's arm, causing a sharp stinging pain.

Johnson yelled, "Steve, move over."

Steve bolted away from the assailant, regained his footing and drew his gun. He turned around to see Johnson brandishing his own weapon - a Colt 45. He had been holding the weapon against the second assailant, rendering him ineffective to aid in the attack.

"It figures you boys would bring knives to a gun fight. Now, I asked you once before, who sent you?"

Both attackers were mute and slowly started backing up. At that moment, two plain clothed police officers entered the alley, distracting both Johnson and Steve. The attackers turned toward the opposite end of the alley and ran. Steve started to pursue, but Johnson shook his head. He then signaled the officers to follow the assailants and see where they were headed. The back-up team nodded and moved on.

"Let them do it. You're a buyer, remember?" Johnson walked over to Steve. "You okay?"

"Um, yeah. Just a couple of scratches." he said as he held onto the briefcase.

"How badly are you bleeding?"

"Not bad. I've had worse paper cuts doing the filing in the office. Can we just go?" He paused for a moment. The shock of the attack was wearing off. "And what the hell is going on with that gun? That's not standard…"

Johnson squeezed Steve's mouth shut with one hand. "Shhh." And then he grinned at Steve's look of astonishment. You could see the smile come to Steve's eyes.

"You're a damn cowboy. Who are you? John Wayne? Dirty Harry? Where did you…," he stopped himself.

"Dirty Harry isn't a cowboy," Johnson paused. "Come on, Pilgrim. You did good. Let's get you cleaned up."


	9. Chapter 9

**Still Later that Night**

Steve and Johnson returned to their car. Steve's left arm ached, and he could feel wetness against his shirt and jacket.

"First things first," Johnson announced, "we do need to get these kilos into the hands of the authorities. I've made arrangements with Lieutenant Miller for the drop off. Then, let's get you patched up, okay?"

"Sounds good to me. My neck is just a scratch, but I think my arm might need a few stitches."

"Arm?"

"Yeah, it happened when I broke away from the one that had me. It's not too bad, but I can feel the bleeding through the sleeves."

Johnson looked down at Steve's left hand and saw that the blood had trickled down.

"I'll drive. Use this to put some pressure on it. Don't need you passing out on me, kid" Johnson said as he handed Steve a folded handkerchief.

Johnson drove the pair to a quiet street several blocks away. He parked behind the same van they saw on their way to see Sanders and Bradford.

They exited their vehicle with the briefcase and climbed in the back where Miller and two plain-clothed officers sat.

"I just got word. The back-up team tracked your attackers. They are associates of a rival ring, the Changs," Miller announced as he took the briefcase. He looked at Steve, "They are the other ring we've been focusing on. The attackers ran back to their car and our guys got a read on the plates - they match one of the cars from the surveillance. The Changs had gone quiet recently, but I'm beginning to wonder if they don't have their sites set on Sanders and Bradford's business. Perhaps the calm before the storm."

Johnson interjected. "Damn, that was quick." He paused for a moment, "Oh, by the way - we have prints on the kilos for the Sheffield case. Definitely quite a few from Sanders, maybe some from Bradford and perhaps Hernandez - but we only saw Sanders actually handle the kilos."

Miller nodded and looked over to Steve who was holding pressure to his left arm.

Steve saw the concern. "I'm okay. So, what's next?"

"Take off your jacket and let's have a look."

Steve obliged and the two other men examined the damage.

"Well, first thing is that Johnson gets your arm patched. You need some stitches. Then, we regroup. We got you into the operation, but we've also now had an attack from the rival ring. And then we've got some developments on the Sheffield murder, so we need to stayed tied in with your partner, Stone, on this."

Steve leaned forward, "What developments?"

Miller replied, "Mike found that the handwriting on the final suicide letter did not match the writing on Sheffield's other letters. He's had the lab do some analysis on the letter, plus they are also running prints on all of the letters."

"That could be a break."

Johnson looked at his watch. "It's after 11pm now. By the time I get the wonder boy patched up, it will be the wee hours. Let's regroup around 10am tomorrow. Want to meet at the hotel?"

"That will work."

The men nodded their farewells. Johnson took Steve to a small emergency clinic nearby where he was the recipient of eight stitches, a large bandage, antibiotic and a painkiller.

oooooooooo

**Sunday, December 5**

Returning to the room after 1am, Johnson couldn't sleep and eventually flipped on The Late Show. He sat back and watched "Rio Bravo" for the umpteenth time and thought about where this investigation was headed.

Steve, on the other hand, took off his jacket and shoes, then quickly collapsed on his bed. Within seconds, Johnson could hear the deep breathing sounds of slumber. He dimmed the lights and sat back to contemplate what the Duke would do.

ooooooooo

At 9:45 am, Johnson kicked the side of Steve's bed. "Company's coming, kiddo, or did you forget?"

After a second kick, Steve stirred. Looking at the clock, Steve responded, "Geez - I've been asleep that long?"

"You had an adrenalin rush from both the meeting and the attack last night, coupled with an injury. That'll knock anyone out. How's the arm?"

"Fine…I better get changed," he trudged into the bathroom. _I could sleep for hours, _he thought.

A few minutes later, he heard the door knock and muffled greetings. He quickly finished brushing his teeth and threw on clean clothes. He checked his hair and did a quick run through with his fingers, shook his head and sighed.

Steve walked into the main room and saw Louis Miller and Mike Stone.

"You look a little more rested, Keller," Miller said.

"Yeah," he started to reply, but then yawned. "I need coffee."

"Brought some, Buddy boy."

"Thanks, Mike. And donuts, too - it's cliché but they look good," Steve grinned as he grabbed a glazed one.

Johnson smirked and then began. "Okay, let's recap…" Johnson then described the exchange with Sanders and Bradford the prior evening.

He concluded, "…So we have Steve into their organization, but quite a few unanswered questions.

Question #1: Where did the money go? We gave Bradford and Sanders $250k last night. Steve, I expect you to find out that answer. That will go a long way to understanding who is funding of this operation." Steve nodded.

"Question #2, how did the Chang rivals know about the deal last night? Did someone leak that information to them or do they have Bradford under such scrutiny, and did we miss that?"

Seeing Mike's puzzled look, Steve began to explain. "We got jumped on the way out last night. A couple of guys from theChangs - the rival ring that Louis and his team have been watching."

Mike's expression changed to worry, but he simply nodded.

"We're okay. I learned that I'm working with Rooster Cogburn over here. They never stood a chance."

Miller chuckled. "Oh, you figured that one out."

Steve rolled his eyes and then turned to Johnson. "How do we go about figuring out who tipped those guys?"

Miller jumped in, "As far as we know, the only ones outside of this room who knew about the meeting were Sanders, Bradford and Hernandez. Cruz was already back at Quentin. The fifth guy in their organization drives contraband to LA and Mexico."

"Let's try to narrow it down though," Steve suggested. "Why would Bradford tip off the rivals? The only thing I could think would be to get the drugs back. But in doing that, he's working with the enemy and he's also making a poor showing operationally to potential new customers. I don't get it."

Johnson agreed. "Yes, he's the least of the three to me for those reasons. How about Sanders? He doesn't seem to be an equal to Bradford. He's a local guy whose drumming up local business, but the market is saturated. He's practically old news."

Mike joined in. "And then add the fact that he's a suspect in a murder case and perhaps getting nervous. Maybe he wants to sabotage Bradford."

"Quite possible. That leaves Hernandez. I know nothing about it him except that he was a roommate of Cruz. He's been quiet at our meetings. He's soon to be a roommate of Steve's, so there'll be opportunity for you there, too, kiddo," Johnson advised.

The men paused for a moment. Steve finally spoke. "What about the Sheffield murder, Mike? Louis said you had developments."

"I sure do. The handwriting on the last letter doesn't match the other letters that Artie sent. It was close, but no cigar. Someone took a good shot at mimicking the writing style, but it was different enough. I had the lab confirm that, plus they ran prints on all the letters."

"And…?"

"There are five sets of prints on the last letter, Buddy boy. Yours, mine, Father Adams, Margaret Temple and…" Mike took a swig at his coffee, smiled and then continued. "Artie's cellmate."

"And who is Artie's cellmate?"

"A man by the name of Lorenzo Jackson. And before you ask, Artie Sheffield's suicide is now a homicide investigation. We're looking into Jackson - who his associates are, how long he's been Sheffield's cellmate, and we're checking out bank accounts. We're going to subpoena his and his wife's accounts to see what activity there has been. Maybe someone paid him to off Artie."

"Wow," Steve replied. "I didn't see that coming. What about the knife? You'll check the prints on the knife that killed Artie's mother against Sanders?"

"Already did, Buddy boy. Thanks to the kilos you delivered to Louis over here. He took those directly over to the lab last night and got someone to lift them."

"And…?"

"They are a match to Caleb Sanders."

Steve queried, "Is it enough to make an arrest?"

Mike replied. "I don't think so. I mean, yes, we have prints on the knife. But suddenly the letter is not from whom we thought it was from. We need more, besides I don't think Sanders is going anywhere."

Miller added, "So a third question has got to be: 'Who is trying to throw Caleb Sanders under the bus?'"

"Could be Bradford. Could be the Chang gang," Johnson said.

"The Chang gang?" Steve smirked and said in an exaggerated and unidentifiable accent.

"Smart-ass. How do you put up with him, Mike?"

Mike smiled. "I developed 'selective listening' some time ago."

"Hmmph."

Miller took control. "Okay, we have our work cut out for us. But I think we know what to do."

Johnson added. "There's one thing. Steve, 'Chuck Wilson' is going back to Chicago, and Bradford and crew know that. We're going to have another agent from the DEA come in as a frequent customer at the club. That seems to be their hangout."

"_Another_ agent?" Steve squinted.

"Um…yeah, I'm on loan to the SFPD from the DEA." Johnson smiled.

"I knew it!" Steve announced. "When were you going to tell me?"

"I just did." And just then, as if perfectly timed, there was a knock on the door. Johnson got up and walked to the peephole where Agent Ting Liu awaited on the other side. Johnson opened the door.

"Gentleman, this is Agent Liu. Ting, this Lieutenant Stone, Lieutenant Miller and Inspector Keller. Ting will be a contact point for Steve and will also be assisting us in surveillance." He turned his attention to the new agent, "Let's get you up to speed on the situation."

Steve was taken aback by Agent Liu. Tall, beautiful with sleek black hair and body, Steve reminded himself to be professional. He did steal a quick look to Mike who returned the glance and held in his own smirk. _This is going to be good, _Mike thought.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N - **A couple of chapters being submitted. The first is a short transitional chapter that gets Steve into the operation and expresses his frustration at the process. The second, more important, chapter develops the relationship with Bradford. Mostly dialogue, they find out more about each other in transit to and from a meeting with the supplier.

**Monday, December 6**

Steve spent his first night at Hernandez's apartment, sleeping in Cruz's former room. The meeting between the two the prior night was not at all social. Hernandez showed up at Launch and Steve followed him back to a small two bedroom apartment.

"I don't cook - you fend for yourself as far as food goes," Hernandez said after giving him Cruz's keys. Hernandez then plopped himself on the couch and turned on the television.

Steve brought his suitcase in and didn't really bother to get settled. He didn't like this part of the plan at all, but the whole point was to find out what he could about the operation and Hernandez appeared to be a growing part of the picture.

Steve was allowed to keep the car that he and Johnson shared, which gave him a little more flexibility in the investigation. This was not a 9 to 5 job. Bradford ran things on a need-to-know basis and kept the men on call.

The afternoon of the next day Hernandez drove the detective to the warehouse, where Steve saw Bradford and Sanders on their own turf for the first time. Bradford called him into his office.

"Coulter, I trust you are settled in at Juan's?"

"Yeah, stayed there last night."

"Okay, fine." Bradford paused for a moment, "Look, you are here to understand the operations and do the 'due diligence' for Wilson. I get that. But I won't have you spying and roaming around on your own. You'll be here doing the work I need and if you have questions along the way, ask. I will call you when I need you and yes, you'll see what you need to see."

_You'll show me what you want me to see,_ Steve thought.

"Sounds fair to me. Look, I am just here to do a job. Wilson will be looking for me to give him answers or it's my neck."

"Looks like we understand each other. For the moment, I just need you to stay out of the way. Can you drive a stick?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Take Sander's car over to the 76 station for an oil change. Here are the address and directions…"

The first two days followed suit. Steve saw very little, but was slowly getting the feel of how Bradford worked and the lay of the warehouse. Hernandez made himself scarce leaving Steve with very little of interest at the apartment.

Steve managed to drive over to Launch and met with Agent Liu. He observed how 'appropriately' dressed she was for an agent whose cover was a club girl. Her long black hair framed a pretty face with exotically made-up eyes, and her slinky pink dress showed off a slim, firm body. After a drink and a couple of close dances, Steve admitted there was little information to provide. Ting, having been in these operations many times before, understood and gave advice to be patient.

Steve agreed. While he was becoming restless and frustrated, the young man knew the best thing he could do was play it cool and wait.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thursday, December 9**

The phone rang at 6am. It was Bradford. "I need a driver to take me down to the supplier. Meet me at the warehouse within an hour. Be prepared for a long day."

Steve knew that the conversation was heard via wire, so he had no need to alert anyone. _Finally, maybe this will be the break we are looking for_, he thought.

The young detective drove over to the warehouse where Bradford met him at the door. "We take my car," Bradford ordered. They proceeded to a late model Corvette.

"Nice ride," Steve complimented.

"Get to 101 South and I'll give you directions along the way. Stick to the speed limit."

Steve remembered that Bradford told him to prepare for a long day. As he passed through San Jose and later entered the city limits of Salinas, he realized that they were leaving central California.

After two hours of near silence, Bradford turned on the radio. "What kind of music do you listen to?" he asked as he tried to find an FM station.

"Just about anything. Beatles, Stones, Zeppelin. Some country, jazz, whatever." Bradford found a station playing the Beatles and sat back.

"How'd you get hooked up with Wilson, anyway?" Bradford asked. This was now the time for both men to test each other.

"I did a stint in a county jail in West Virginia…"

"What county?" Bradford interrupted.

"Berkeley county." Steve continued, remembering his profile. "It was a breaking and entering beef. I didn't want any trouble beyond what I already had, so I pretty much kept to my own business. But while I was in there, I had a cellmate for a couple of months and he told me about this uncle in Chicago. Said that when I got out I should look him up. He said the uncle had a 'variety of interests' and that maybe I had skills to match.

And he did and I did. Chuck Wilson has in hands in a lot of things, just not a lot of any one thing but he has connections with some of the local families.

So, I started working for Chuck. Doing minor B&E, stealing a few cars, making deliveries - really just low hanging fruit. After awhile, I was spending more time with him. I can't say I am a great bodyguard - I mean, look at my build. But I'm fairly quick on my feet, so he viewed that as a plus. At any rate, I've been working for him for about a year."

_Whew - hopefully I didn't overplay that, _Steve thought.

Bradford nodded, but said no more and appeared to be deep in thought the rest of the trip. At Gaviata, 101 merged with the Pacific Coast Highway and suddenly Bradford seemed to relax. They were apparently getting close to their destination.

oooooooo

It was after over 300 miles covered in little more than five hours when they reached their destination, Santa Barbara. Bradford instructed Steve to head towards the Santa Barbara Cemetery, which was along the waterfront. They pulled in and followed the winding roads until Bradford saw a black Lincoln. He instructed Steve to pull behind.

"Stay here," Bradford ordered as he got out and retrieved the familiar case that contained the money from the transaction the previous Saturday. Steve watched with interest, making a mental note of the license plate and description of the car.

Bradford got in the back of the Lincoln and shut the door. Steve looked around and found no other cars within view.

After a few minutes, Bradford was out with a different case which was again deposited in the small trunk of the Corvette.

"Okay, let's go," Bradford ordered.

"That's it?"

"What did you expect, a big production?"

"No…I don't know. Is that another supply then? Is that how you run the stuff back up to San Francisco?"

"That's it."

"And they are based here in Santa Barbara?"

"It's where we meet," Bradford said. "Let's go through a drive-thru. I'm starving."

"Can you give me something more to go on than this - for Wilson? Are they based in LA?"

"Yeah, they are."

"How long have you been working with them?"

"Just a few months. They get this stuff from a manufacturer out of Thailand. It's sent over here, privately of course, and our contacts in LA obtain it and distribute it. They spread the drop off points just like anyone does."

"Do you have to pay in advance or is it cash on delivery?"

"Meaning…"

"Meaning the 250 G's we gave you - did that cover the supply that we bought or did it really cover a future supply."

"Future supply - I have to pay ahead, but the margins I get should eventually make that not so much of a headache. Right now, we're just developing this line. It's priced only a little higher than the stuff you see on the street, but once it really hits, the demand will be there. We can drive the price up and with that the margin goes up."

"Win-win," Steve nearly cringed as he said it. But at least he got Bradford to talk. _This should be a more informative trip back. _"And then we drive another five hours back to San Francisco."

"Look, you can report to Wilson that we have a supplier and that you were in on the deal."

"Yep - so what's your poison? Where do you want to stop?"

"Burgers are fine. And let's take the PCH back. I know it's longer, but I like the view."

ooooooo

Driving up the PCH, the conversation flowed more readily than on the trip down.

Steve struggled with the nature of the subject matter, but had a natural curiosity about the drug business and how it all worked. He decided to see if Bradford would talk more.

"So, let me ask you something else, then. In theory. You've got someone bringing the stuff in from Southeast Asia into LA and then LA redistributes. What's to stop someone like Chuck Wilson and me from going directly to the source? I mean, you are the middleman, right?"

"Coulter, you've got a good business head on you, I'll give you that. Yeah, you could go to them directly, but that's not how they operate. The run a very tight ship down there. You know how big Southern California is and the infrastructure it takes to cover a geography like that.

Instead, they have point distributors in two key areas - and we're hoping the third one becomes San Francisco. I'm sure they'd love to get distributors networked in other areas, but that's where they are now. Other areas of the country need to work through those point distributors."

Steve responded, "So another question - and if I can be so bold to ask this. You seem to have a very small operation to take this on. Am I right on that?"

Bradford sighed. "Yeah, it may appear to be tight and hell, it probably is. I have a guy that does some other business for me and I'm going to pull him over into this as we grow. Hernandez, he's been okay. "

"What about Sanders?"

"Sanders is a local guy who has been tapping into the same network for years. He does well with what he has, but I'll be looking to add another resource or two as we get distribution lines set up."

Bradford continued, "You know, it's not much different than any other business when you get down to it. You have to be careful and you can't over expand too quickly. What complicates matters is simply the fact that everything we do is 'hot' and cops would be all over us if we weren't careful."

Steve was not about to touch that one and instead quickly said, "So what you're telling me is, it's Business 101."

"Yeah, something like that."

They continued to drive up the PCH. The sun was beginning to set over the ocean and there was an odd calmness to the entire situation.

"Let me ask you one more thing."

"Just one more?"

"Okay, for now. Why not widgets? Why not electronics or tires or something? You seem to be a smart man - entrepreneurial spirit and all that. Why didn't you go legit?"

Bradford sat in silence, contemplating the question. "You are a product of your environment, Coulter. My old man did time in San Quentin. My grandpa did time in Alcatraz. Running rackets and scams, both of them. There was no college for me except the streets. I followed their lead, but I wanted more. Dealing and distribution was the path."

Steve nodded. "No regrets?"

"None. And before you ask, everyone makes choices. The people that take this stuff made their choice. I don't feel sorry for them, not even if they OD. It's the cost of doing business."

Steve had to choke back the emotion he felt at the moment. He thought about Mary Sheffield and how she had nothing to do with drugs and yet her life was cut violently short by her own son and Caleb Sanders. Steve could not consider her or her family's suffering simply the 'cost of doing business'.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N - A little bit of flirtatious fun at the club - Steve needed a little break. In the meantime, Mike's case is coming right along.

**Friday, December 10**

Police Headquarters was busy for a Friday morning. Mike decided to take a detour before heading into his office. It had been days since he had seen Louis Miller, Johnson or Steve, for that matter, and he wanted an update.

"Hey, Louis." Mike greeted his Narcotics counterpart. "Thought I'd stop by to see how things were going."

"Great, I was going to do the same later this morning so you saved me a trip. Have a seat." Mike obliged as he took off his hat and coat. Louis continued. "How's the Sheffield investigation going? Any word about Lorenzo Jackson?"

"We found a ten thousand dollar deposit in his wife's bank account. There's nothing really to trace since it was cash. We also questioned Lorenzo. He's not talking - at least right now. But since there's a cloud of suspicion over Mr. Jackson, well, the warden figured he's a danger to the other prisoners. So…he's in isolation. That may change his tune some after awhile. We'll see on that. "

"The cash deposit is circumstantial at best," Louis observed. "What about the cause of Artie's death? He hung himself. Was there any other physical evidence?"

"The sheet that he used has been recycled through the laundry already. But the description on the incident report was that the sheet was very tightly twisted. Whoever was twisting it was trying to make it as compact as a rope," Mike twisted an imaginary sheet for effect. "And the twisting was tight and then knotted to keep it steady; it had to be done with someone with muscle. We tried it at the office with a cot sheet like what they have - harder than you'd expect. Artie - he was not a strong man, but I have my suspicion that Jackson could have done it with no problem."

"Damn it, though. You don't really have anything solid."

"I'm saving the best for last. A couple of things…guess who was Cruz's cellmate when he was serving the first two years of his sentence?"

"Don't tell me…"

"Lorenzo Jackson…" Mike beamed. "We also got samples of Lorenzo's writing and our expert contends that it's a match against the letter. We need to work on Lorenzo and Cruz more; there's got to be a link. We'll keep pushing - try to play one against the other. I think we'll get there. And once we get to the bottom of Artie's murder, we'll get to the bottom of what happened to his mother."

"Excellent, Mike - you are more than getting there then. Good work. We just have to find out who is behind Jackson - and if it's Cruz, then who is behind Cruz."

"Well, I'll be going out later today to talk to Mr. Caleb Sanders. I'm going to let him know that his name was mentioned in a letter that discussed the murder and see what he says. I'm also going to ask him if he has any enemies or anyone that's been after him. Maybe it is the Chang group - and maybe he's been watching his back to the point that he's getting paranoid or scared."

After a pause, Mike began again. "Okay, Louis. How's the kid doing for you and Johnson? What's the latest?"

Miller leaned forward. He had his elbows on his desk, head in his hands. "Well, he's been living with Hernandez and it was slow going at first." He raised his head up to look at Mike, "I'll give Steve credit, though, he played it cool. Didn't push his way in. Finally, Bradford called and had him drive him to Santa Barbara to meet with the suppliers. Our boys tailed them down 101 and then back up the PCH. Steve got him to talk - nothing really specific, but we did find out who the supplier is."

"You're kidding. How?"

"Got the plates off the supplier's car. Traced it back to a rental company which is owned by one of the big mob families in LA. This group has been on the LAPD's radar as well as the DEA. We know they have quite a network in LA, plus two distributors outside of LA," Miller paused. "Steve was able to have a good conversation with the guy - showed interest in what he was doing without giving it away. I think he could be really useful here with Bradford - and maybe even get us back to the LA connection. You should be proud Mike, you trained him well."

"I had nothing to do with it," Mike responded modestly. "He's a good kid. He's smart and he knows how to act around people." The pride in Mike's voice was unmistakable.

Mike continued. "Is he in touch with Johnson or this Ting agent?"

"You mean Agent Liu - but her first name is Ting. Yeah, they met up a few nights ago. Steve was getting a little discouraged by that point, but I think he's making headway now."

"What about Hernandez?"

"That's the most interesting piece of all. Hernandez has made himself scarce at the apartment. We had a tail on him for a while and followed him to a place that's a known hangout of the Changs. When Steve connects with Ting again, she's going to instruct him on sticking with Hernandez. We're also going to have more surveillance on the guy too."

ooooooooooo

**Saturday, December 10**

"Coulter," said the voice on the phone. "Come on down to the armory. I want to do some target shooting and thought it'd be good for you to have some practice too. You carry a piece, don't you?"

"I do - a 38 special."

Steve took the directions from Bradford and met him down at the local armory. Dressed in jeans, sweatshirt and his White Sox cap, he met up with is temporary 'boss'. While Bradford was an adequate shot, Steve showed his own proficiency with his 38 special. Bradford let him shoot his 9mm. It had a nice little kick to it.

"I should have you around to the house to show you my collection," Bradford suggested.

Steve, feeling himself in a surreal world, simply smiled nervously. He took it as an opportunity to learn more about Bradford and the operation. It was important for Steve to learn how they were armed. He wondered in the back of his mind if the afternoon at the armory was really an audition for a larger role within Bradford's organization.

ooooooooo

In the early evening, Steve returned to an empty apartment. It was with some relief that he found Hernandez absent. Deciding to take a break, he sat on the couch for a while. He pulled a nearly empty bag of sunflower seeds from his jacket and sighed. _Maybe it's okay if I go back to smoking for a while. It would help with the stress - and besides what drug dealer pops sunflower seeds in his mouth? _he pondered.

Anticipating he needed to see Ting, he decided to drive over to Launch. The young detective could sense things were heating up with Bradford Steve needed guidance (or perhaps permission) on how far he could take his actions, especially if he was expected to take a larger role in the criminal activity. Steve also wanted to find out what was going on from Mike and Johnson's parts of the investigations. He changed into clean jeans, a black sweater and boots before making his way to the club.

oooooooo

As he walked into the club, he didn't see Ting. Disappointed, he made his way over to the bar to order a beer. Launch was filling up on a Saturday night. The clientele were mostly young ,single people looking for a hook-up - most were looking for a sexual hook-up, but some were undoubtedly after something more illicit.

Time went by and his glass was empty. He decided on a second beer. Deep in his own thoughts, he was startled when a familiar voice whispered in his ear, "Hi baby - you come back for some more?" With a quick glance to his right, he saw the beautiful and exotic face of Ting Liu wearing a tight and revealing red satin pantsuit. She draped her arm around his shoulder and playfully stuck her tongue in his ear.

"Okay, you know _I_ can't get away with that, but I suppose you can," he whispered. He squinted at her, "Are you married?"

"I am, but you need to buy me a drink anyway," she teased as she looked around.

_Great, another girl that's off-limits_, he thought to himself.

She climbed on the stool next to him. "How about you - married, I mean" Ting inquired with a sly grin.

"No - not in the line of work I'm in." Ting cocked an eyebrow at that. Steve continued hesitantly, "And besides, I've not picked terribly well when it comes to girlfriends. But that's another story…" Steve said voiced trailed off, but he recovered with a grin.

Ting looked at him amusingly, but then caught a glance of someone to her side. "I think I see one of your friends over there," she suggested as she saw Sanders, who was sitting alone in the corner.

"Yeah, odd guy that Sanders. Is he watching us?"

"He is."

"Give him something to remember then, sweetheart," Steve flirted playfully.

With that prompt, Ting moved her body along beside Steve's and ran her hand up and down his back until she reached the back pockets of his jeans. Stroking and then grabbing what she could, Steve smirked. She once again went for his ear and whispered, "What do you think he's thinking about?" Steve smiled and felt Ting take him by the hand,. She led him to the dance floor where they danced slowly and sensually to Barry White.

"I love that man's voice," Ting cooed.

"This is so not fair," Steve whined. "You are going to drive me crazy," he whispered as Ting began to bump and grind against Steve.

After a couple more songs, they walked back over to the bar. At this point, Steve pulled Ting closer and whispered in her ear. "I do need to talk to you. Where can we go?"

"How about back to your place? We do a little bit more of a sleazy show for Sanders and then take off."

"Deal. I'll need a cold shower by the time we get there."

Ting and Steve continued their flirtatious act, though not at all out of step of the other patrons. After several minutes, he flashed her a look and she responded with a smile. Then she took him by the hand and led him of the bar. Sanders watched them leave and then looked back down on his beer.

ooooooo

They pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex and walked up the outside stairs. He fumbled for his keys. _This isn't even going to amount to anything with her, so why am I nervous,_ he wondered.

As they walked in the door, they could hear moaning and the creaking of the sofa that sat before them. They could also see more of Hernandez and his date than they ever wanted in the midst of something that they didn't want to think about. Steve turned and out of reflex put his hand over Ting's eyes.

"Hey man," Hernandez said, "if you are going to watch us, I get to watch you and your old lady." He eyed Ting. "Hey, she's hot - I'm definitely going to watch her."

"No, we're not into that. Sorry," Ting said calmly. With that, she grabbed Steve's hand and led him back to the hallway, where Steve pointed to his room.

"Sorry about that - I had no idea," Steve apologized genuinely.

"Not your fault. Hopefully the bedroom door has a lock."

"It does. And let me turn on some music. It will drowned out the moaning in the other room and will also give us a little bit better chance to tal_k."_


	13. Chapter 13

With the radio on and the door securely locked, Ting sat on the bed. Steve joined her, with his back against the headboard.

"I'll have you know I don't normally get this far with a girl only to have a shop discussion in bed," he deadpanned.

Ting laughed and then became serious. "Well, you sound like you do have something serious bothering you about all of this. What is it?"

"I'm in the organization now. I've been at the warehouse, on the road and at a meeting with a supplier. I've even taken target practice with Bradford and have been invited to his home. I see what's coming. He's going to ask me to do something that I'm sure will cross the boundaries of what I can legally do."

"Steve, first remember this. We're with you every step of the way. I think you forget that, and I can understand why. But you have been no farther than a block away while you've been here in the city. When you went down to Santa Barbara, our people were a safe distance away, so it wasn't too suspicious. But you were wired and they would have come in on a moments notice even then."

"You are right. I do forget that – and I guess I think worse case too. I assume that the back-up is not there."

"You need to assume it is. Secondly, you need to remember priorities. First is public safety. Under no circumstance are you to directly endanger innocent lives. Second is your safety. If it gets too dangerous, we'll pull you out. And if you don't see that happening, you know you can walk away too."

Ting continued. "Now, third – you don't initiate a crime. You don't go to Bradford and say, 'hey, let me hold up this jewelry store.' Ideally, you are a passive participant. You go along as a driver or a watch-out."

"What if he wants me to take a more active role? I don't initiate it, but I'm involved."

"Again, we'll be with you. Remember that. My hunch is that he'll have you distributing to the smaller dealers he has. You do a drop for him, we'll be right behind you and discreetly handle what you leave behind."

"Got it. Okay – the parameters are clear – at least in theory."

Ting changed the subject. "Steve, there's something else you need to know. Cruz has been linked to the cellmate, Lorenzo Jackson, that may have killed Artie Sheffield. And we've also followed Hernandez to a place where Chang's members hang out. I think the current and former resident of this apartment are up to their eyeballs in this, but I think they are on the other side."

"What do you mean?" Steve asked.

"I mean, the Chang group may have had Cruz and Hernandez infiltrate Bradford and Sanders to take over their part of the distribution of the new line of heroin. They'll expand and take over the whole ring."

Ting continued. "Steve, stick with Hernandez more. Let us know what he's doing – phone calls, anything. Watch him while he's with Bradford and at the warehouse. But don't make him suspicious.

Babe, this whole thing is likely to accelerate now. The supply is starting to flow and there's movement that we're seeing during surveillance. You need to know this set-up could come down quickly into some sort of turf war. If it does, I don't see how Bradford's group will manage. They have bit off more than they could chew. The Changs may have even allowed for it to go this far just so they could step in once the distribution channel was set up.

"Whew," Steve sighed. "This is quite a bit to process. What do I do going forward?"

"Keep at what you're doing. Be involved and keep your eyes open. We will stay in touch."

"What's Johnson doing?"

"He and Miller are watching the Chang side. You and I are focusing on the Bradford side. And don't forget Mike."

Steve chuckled. "No, I can't forget Mike. Any developments on his end?"

"Just good solid police work that I understand is typical for him. He's pounding the street for witnesses, working both Jackson and Sanders, and has the police lab working on handwriting samples and evidence. He was going to visit Sanders today to shake him up a bit more. That could be why he was preoccupied in the club tonight."

They continued to talk but had eventually exhausted the shop conversation. After that, the pair decided to wait it out in the bedroom for another couple of hours. It was after 1am when Steve drove her back to her car at the club.

oooooooo

During the next two weeks, Steve did see an increase in his activity with Bradford. He began accompanying Bradford, Sanders and even Hernandez on runs to dealers and large customers. He watched the kilos that were brought back from Santa Barbara become separated into smaller packets even down to the individual dose level.

The contraband that the fifth man drove to points south was acquired through a local fence. Steve also took an active part of that aspect of the business. More lucrative than he imagined, he could tell that this side of Bradford's operation provided much needed capital and even access to more men, if required.

Surveillance also continued as planned. The team rotated. Sometimes Johnson and Miller took turns with the other officers and Ting. On more than one occasion, Mike also took a turn to see how his partner was fairing. He had to admit to himself that the narcotics side of police work was just as tough and stressful as what he saw in Homicide.

Steve continued to meet with Ting, establishing her as not quite a girlfriend but someone with whom he had a good time. Sometimes they were at the club. Sometimes he took her back to the apartment.

**Christmas Day**

Jeannie had been home for a few days and was grateful to be done with finals. She missed San Francisco and looked forward to finishing up final year. Nearly twenty-two, she wanted to return home for good and pursue a career in community planning. With her studies behind her, she looked forward to spending some time with her father.

Mike came down the stairs, ready for Christmas Mass. Jeannie had observed that her dad was not quite himself, as if something kept him preoccupied. She knew him well enough not to ask, figuring correctly that it was work related. And given that she knew Steve was on assignment, she was almost certain that the young detective played heavily into his thoughts.

"Merry Christmas, Daddy." Jeannie often called her father "Mike", but on occasions such as this, she reverted back to a more traditional greeting.

"Merry Christmas, Sweetie. I'm going to grab a quick cup of coffee and then we can leave."

"Have a seat. I'll get us both a cup."

After she brought the coffee to the table, Mike thanked her with a smile. The smile faded as he stared down into the cup.

"You are worried, aren't you, Mike?"

"Of course. But it's also, well, it's Christmas and here the kid is hanging out with the scum of the earth instead of being with his family or…here, even. It's not right. I wished we could have wrapped this up before now."

"I'm sure he does too. But he's a big boy and he'll be fine. I imagine he's a little lonesome today, though. We should light a candle for him. We'll also say a special prayer for him."

"The candle would be a nice touch. I'm sure he'd appreciate it. As for the prayers, I've said one every day – but a special one today is a good thought, too." Mike continued to look into his cup. "It isn't easy sending these young men and women out on these assignments. It's one thing to investigate a crime, but to immerse yourself completely into the very same environment that you are trying to destroy… Well, it's a damn near impossible situation."

Jeannie nodded her understanding and looked at the clock. "We should be going, Mike."

At that moment, the phone rang. Mike picked it up. "Hello?"

"Mike?" a familiar voice asked on the other end of the line.

A smile crept over Mike's face. "Buddy-boy…what are you doing calling here?"

"Well, my roommate is passed out on the floor. He fell off the couch after he collapsed on his girlfriend. She had to push him off. At least he's not completely naked again – but you don't want to hear that. Anyway, I thought I'd walk over to the only gas station that's open near here today and restock my sunflower seed supply. Ha! And then I saw the payphone and figured I could get away with a quick call to say, 'Merry Christmas'."

"Jeannie and I were just talking about you. She's missing you and had suggested we light a candle for you at Mass."

"Aw, that's nice. I appreciate that. Look, I'd better not push it and I'm thinking you are probably on your way out for church. Take it easy. I hope I'll see you soon. Give Jeannie my best."

"I will. You keep yourself safe, do you hear? Thanks for calling. Knowing you are okay, well, it made my day."

As he hung, Mike called over to Jean with the first smile she had seen since her arrival. "Now, let's go."


	14. Chapter 14

**Wednesday, December 28**

"Hey, Louis. Here's a belated Christmas present. Jackson wants to strike a deal." Mike announced as he caught up with Lieutenant Miller in the hallway.

"How so?"

"Jackson got an attorney. He'll talk about who paid him in exchange that no charges are pressed against his wife. With that, he'll plea to second degree murder."

"That would be a generous offer on our side. I mean, the guy got paid for the hit. I would consider that pre-meditated and first degree."

"But we can't tie the money to the hit without this."

"Got it. So what happened? Did you scare the wife?"

"I didn't, but I think she saw what they were both facing. Since we've been working several angles, all that had to happen was for Cruz, or whoever set this up, to spill their guts first. It was a game of chicken and Jackson blinked first. It was a smart move on his part."

"So you are working with the DA's office to get that deal finalized."

"We sure are."

oooooooo

**Thursday, December 29**

Mike and Louis Miller drove to San Quentin and joined the Assistant DA Omar Hudson and Jackson's attorney. They met in a small room by the visitor's area along with Lorenzo Jackson.

Jackson talked…a lot. His statement was recorded.

Jackson and Cruz had become fast friends while they shared a cell for nearly two years. Jackson knew of Cruz's connections to the San Francisco organized crime scene. Only caught and convicted once, Cruz had participated in a number of robberies. He also had become connected with the Chang drug ring through his cousin, Juan Hernandez.

After Cruz was released, Artie was moved into Jackson's cell. As far as prisoners went, it was a miracle that Artie had survived as long as he had. Artie was weak. He felt tremendous remorse for the crime he had committed and that weighed heavily on his mind. Showing that to other prisoners made him a target to begin with.

As he had with his prior cellmate, Sheffield began talking to Jackson about the murder. The more he talked, the more obsessive he became until that was all he could focus on.

After a while, he mentioned Sanders and his role in the attack against his mother. The more he discussed Sanders, the more embittered he became. The situation had evolved to where Artie chattered non-stop about the attack and his hatred and contempt toward Sanders. "He got me into this," Sanders would say. "It was him, it was all him." And he'd continue to repeat that mantra. He was losing his mind.

Cruz had contacted Jackson's wife when he was released – mostly to let her know how Jackson was doing. It was initially done as a simple act of kindness. Jackson had always spoken well of his wife and in fact had her on a pedestal. Cruz felt sympathy towards to woman considering what she had to endure with a husband in prison.

Mrs. Jackson and Cruz continued to talk since she would frequently visit her husband. It was during one of these conversations that Mrs. Jackson had mentioned her husband's new cellmate, Artie Sheffield, his mother's killing and Artie's continual condemnation of Caleb Sanders.

The name "Caleb Sanders" rang a bell with Cruz. He had heard his cousin, Juan Hernandez, mention Martin Bradford and Caleb Sanders as two drug distributors that were encroaching on the Chang's territory. He told Hernandez the story. But by then, Bradford had established connections with distributors in Los Angeles for a new line of heroin. The Chang group viewed Bradford as a danger and had devised what they thought would be a surreptitious way of eliminating the threat by breaking up the partnership.

Through Hernandez, Chang had arranged for a hit on Sheffield. They hired Jackson to gag Artie, strangle him, and then hang his body on a noose fashioned from Sheffield's own cot sheet. All of this occurred in the wee hours of the morning in between guard patrols.

After completing the task, Jackson went to sleep. The guard saw the body hanging from the bars and called for assistance. They opened the cell only to find Artie dead. They 'woke' up Jackson who acted surprised. A report was written and the initial determination was suicide.

Mike inquired about the letter. "Who wrote the suicide letter?"

Jackson responded that he had stolen two of the letters that Artie had intended to send his aunt. The letters were put into envelopes addressed to Cruz and Hernandez's apartment. They wrote their own letter, mimicking the handwriting as best they could. They mailed the letter and an envelope addressed to the aunt to Jackson, who kept it hidden in his Bible until the murder occurred.

Mike thought out loud, "So with Artie's aunt receiving the letter, they knew she'd become troubled about another party involved in her sister's murder. That alerted us and made us reopen the investigation."

Louis Miller let out a deep breath.

ooooooooo

After Jackson and his attorney left the room, Omar, Mike and Louis met.

"Do we have enough to make some arrests here?"

Omar replied, "We have testimony from a con who has copped a plea. His testimony will incriminate Sanders on the homicide and Cruz and Hernandez on a variety of charges. We have expert testimony that Cruz was the one that wrote the letter and we can surely get Hernandez as an accessory to anything we pin on Cruz directly. There'll be plea bargains galore here. No one will get life on any of this, but at least we'll get these creeps off the street for a while."

Omar continued. "So yeah, I think we can arrest Sanders and Hernandez, plus we have more to add on Cruz. We need to get back to the office to dot all the I's and cross all the t's. I want this to be as tight as possible."

Louis joined in. "If we get Sanders and Hernandez off the streets, what does that do to Bradford? And can we nail any of the Changs with this or even get something we can us against the distributors in Los Angeles?"

Mike and Omar looked pensive. "I'd like to get as many of these guys as we can," Louis continued. "It will save some lives to get these people off the street."

Mike thought again. "Okay, we get Sanders off the street. What does that do in the big scheme of things?"

Louis pondered, "Well, word gets back to Hernandez and that gets back to Chang. With only Bradford as the primary principle left, the Chang outfit will make a move. If we cover Bradford and the warehouse, we can get the whole group. Then we can see if we can turn testimony against the LA ring."

Mike asked, "Do you have enough on Bradford?"

"Thanks to Steve and Chuck Johnson, yes. And once we bust him, we'll have all the documentation we need to go after LA."

Mike was concerned. "Remember you have Steve in the middle of all that. I don't want him in the midst of some rival war. He could get killed."

"And what if we go after Bradford and Hernandez first?"

"Well, we probably don't make too much of a dent into the Chang ring. If we catch them with Hernandez and going after Bradford, the case is much stronger."

"What if we pull Steve out now," Mike asked.

"Bradford will know something's up and could go underground. And if he closes up shop, we could lose the LA group too," Louis answered.

"I don't like this, but I see your point. We need to keep Steve in and catch Bradford and the Chang group by surprise," Mike said.

"That will be the plan then. You bust Caleb Sanders, Mike, and we play the rest out very closely. We'll have Johnson and Liu, plus an army backing us," Louis advised.

"I'm not worried about an army backing _us_, I'm worried about _us_ backing Steve."


	15. Chapter 15

Word on Cell Block C had spread quickly when Jackson went into isolation. Many knew of Artie Sheffield's rantings about Caleb Sanders and his mother's murder. While never in prison, Sanders was a familiar name with those involved with the local organized crime scene. Some knew that Cruz worked with Sanders and Bradford and also knew Cruz and Jackson had shared a cell.

The fact that Jackson's new roommate died had already been seen as a curious development. Now after the meeting with the police and attorneys, Lorenzo Jackson returned to the general population. He was no longer viewed as a threat to the other inmates. But Jackson's return was noted by the other prisoners as a suspicious. He had to have struck a deal or had turned evidence against someone else. Whatever the case, something had changed. Word quickly traveled among the prisoners and the eventually made its way outside the prison.

ooooooo

Louis Miller and Mike Stone entered Police Headquarters after their visit to San Quentin. They needed to execute plans which would bring justice in two murder cases, break two local drug rings and another large dealer out of town, and above all, bring home their undercover agent safely.

"We need to bring Chuck Johnson and the Feds in. He and Ting Liu are DEA. We can't act on this alone. It's been a joint effort all along. Too much is at stake."

Mike started to open his mouth. "I know, Mike, top priority is Steve's safety. And if we play this out right, we'll also be able to take a lot of garbage off the street as well as bring him home."

Mike closed his mouth. He knew that Louis was right in that they could not unilaterally decide how to close these cases out. It would need to be a joint effort with the Feds.

"We also need to get word to Steve on these developments. The only one with cover to do that is Ting."

ooooooooo

Agents Johnson and Liu were in Miller's office within the hour. In the past few weeks, they had monitored the activity of both the Bradford group and the Chang ring. Through Steve's activity, he relayed information that identified the LA mob family who controlled the supply. Additionally, Steve's work provided leads on several of the smaller dealers as well as burglaries and subsequent fencing and trafficking activities.

Johnson was beyond pleased. After this operation was over, he would make his best pitch to recruit Steve into the federal organization. He had floated the idea to his superiors already. They were receptive but also anxious to see the outcome of the investigation before any commitment was made.

After hearing the updates from Stone and Miller, Johnson frowned. "I know things are rapidly changing and that you have enough for the arrests of Sanders and Hernandez. But we've been trying to get a link into what's been going on down in LA. It's been three weeks since "Wilson" returned to Chicago. The plan had been to get Steve into the organization and set up a larger order for him to witness first hand. We need to finish what we started."

He continued, "I can be in touch with Bradford immediately with instructions for a new order. I know from Steve that Bradford's supply is getting low. We can arrange for a buy that depletes the remaining supply and forces Bradford to meet up with the supplier again."

Johnson paused. "We've been very methodical through this entire investigation. Once the deal is made, I'll have a couple of DEA agents follow the drop-off contacts back to LA. These big rings are like onions - very layered until you get to the core. The way they work, the drop off team would probably go back to an intermediary. To get past that layer would position us for a new phase in our local operations down there. I'd consider that a success."

The others were silent as they absorbed what Johnson said..

"Okay," Miller said. "How can we coordinate this?" And then answering his own question, Miller responded, "If we arrest Sanders now, Bradford and Hernandez will find out. Through Hernandez, that will likely trigger activity from the Chang group."

Johnson interjected, "We can't risk Chang going after Bradford until they make the deal with LA." He looked at Mike, "Hold off on Sanders' arrest until Steve and Bradford are on their way. Once they are out of the city, you can make the bust. Then they do their deal and the DEA follows the drop-off team. We close down Bradford and Hernandez when Bradford returns to his home field."

Miller and Stone agreed. Mike reasoned to himself, _At least that way, Steve stays in front of the arrests. We'll take Sanders after he leaves. The DEA will go after the drop-off team after he and Bradford leave. And then Bradford and Hernandez get busted, but we can get Steve out of site first. _

After a few minutes of thought, Johnson said, "Are we in agreement?" After seeing the nods, Johnson proceeded to line out the next steps. "I'll call Bradford's phone service and get word to him that we want 10 kilos. With his supply low, he'll have to make arrangements in order to complete the deal. I would anticipate he'll go downstate at that point. I doubt if he has a half million lying around and he could ask for some sort of down payment. We'll see how that flows."

"Ting, you need to find Steve tonight and tell him what's going on."

oooooooo

Steve met with Ting that evening at the club. She had seen him at the bar and approached him the playful way she normally did, but he could tell there was more urgency in her voice. He pulled her close, greeted her with a kiss and then whispered in her ear, "Something is about to break, isn't it? Let's go." Ting pulled back and nodded. "Let's go."

In his room at the apartment, Steve locked the door and turned on the music. Hernandez was not at home, but Steve did not want to take any chances on other listening devices having been planted. Carelessness could be fatal at this point.

He and Ting sat on the bed and she proceeded to tell him all that had transpired in the last two days: from Jackson's plea deal to Sanders' imminent arrest to Hernandez and Cruz's involvement.

"Sounds like this will all be over soon, one way or the other."

She told Steve the plans that Miller, Johnson and Stone came up with. He nodded as he listened intently.

As she left, she brought herself closer to Steve. "Please be careful. I've gotten used to working with you and I don't want anything to happen." She leaned forward and kissed him again. He put his arms around her and continued the kiss.

"You're married and I need to be focused, but…thanks. You are something, Ting Liu," he said as he ran his hand down her cheek.

"So are you. Remember your wire. Tell us what the arrangements are. We'll have someone behind you all the way."

And after one final kiss, she left.

oooooooo

**Still That Evening**

Johnson, as Wilson, contacted Bradford requesting another 10 kilos. Due to the size of the order, Bradford instructed Wilson that he would need to provide half the cash up front and pay the rest when he had procured the supply. Wilson agreed and arranged to meet Coulter at an airport hotel the next morning and hand off the $250k down payment.

The implication was that Wilson would be taking the first flight out of Chicago. That would make an 9am meeting with Coulter plausible. Next, Coulter and Bradford would take the money downstate along with cash from other deals and pick up his supply. Upon return, Bradford would arrange the drop off to Wilson and pick up the remaining $250k.

Bradford agreed to the arrangements and contacted his supplier in Los Angeles. He told Wilson he would confirm the drop with his supplier. If all went well, Wilson would have his supply within 24 hours.

Bradford called his supplier and made arrangements for pick-up at the south entrance of the Santa Barbara Yacht Club at 2pm. He left word with Wilson's service that the plans were in place to proceed.

Johnson got the message and relayed the plans to his colleagues. For all the effort that had been put in during the last few weeks, it was clear that it would all come to a conclusion tomorrow.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **The story is finally complete! There will be 20 chapters in total…so 5 more, including this one below, plus an epilogue. What SOSF story would be complete without an epilogue? I'll publish one chapter a day.

Thanks to my newly found Streets friends. It's great to see the show get some fic and respect.

oooooooo

Steve's mind reeled with what could potentially happen the next day. Alone at the apartment he shared with Hernandez and completely immersed in his thoughts, Steve jumped when the phone rang.

It was Bradford's voice on the other end of the line. He called to let him know of the arrangement he had made with Wilson/Johnson: Wilson's plane from Chicago would land around 8:15. He would check in at the airport hotel around 9am. At that point, they'd meet in the lobby and then conduct their business in Wilson's hotel room.

From there, Steve and Bradford would drive down to a parking lot on the south side of Santa Barbara to exchange the cash for ten kilos of heroin. After the buy, they would drive back to the hotel and settle up with Wilson. Wilson would transport the heroin back to Chicago from there.

Bradford instructed Steve to come by his house at 8am and they'd take the Corvette.

After hearing these instructions, as well as the plans laid out by his colleagues, Steve had a good idea of how the day was supposed to go down. He just hoped that it would go as planned.

oooooooo

**Friday, December 30**

Steve and Bradford arrived at the hotel shortly before 9am. They walked into the nicely appointed lobby and saw Johnson/Wilson sitting on one of the sofas. Steve was amused at how disheveled Johnson looked. According to their cover, Wilson had taken a 4 hour direct flight from Chicago, which had left O'Hare at 6am Central Time. Steve thought that he certainly looked like a guy who was exhausted from such an early flight.

Since Wilson had already checked in, the three men took the elevator to his room. There, they quickly went over arrangements and plans. Bradford took the time to count some of the cash, much to the undercover officers' amusement. Knowing what was going to happen later, the cash counting was a waste of time, but the fact that Bradford didn't have any idea was a very good sign.

As they were leaving, Steve turned to Johnson and said, "Wilson, you need to get some sleep. You look like hell," he winked. "I'll catch up with you after all this is done."

Johnson smiled and said, "By the time you guys get back from your supplier, I should be rested enough for the return flight back. You coming back to Chicago with me, Hotshot, or is there something else you are going to tell me?"

Steve raised his eyebrows. "I don't know what you are talking about."

Bradford smirked slightly. "It's that girl you've been banging while you were here. He's probably heard about her – hell, even I heard about her. Wilson here probably figures she's got her hooks in you."

Steve grinned as they walked out the door.

ooooooo

At 9:30, Johnson made the call to Mike and Louis to make sure they knew that Steve and Bradford had left.

"Went off well, Mike. The kid is such a natural. It was like he and Bradford had worked together for years." Johnson paused and said thoughtfully, "You know, Mike, he's got what it takes to do this as a career."

"I'm not sure that's what he wants," Mike hedged.

"Yeah, but when this is all over, I want you to know that I'll be talking to him to come on board the DEA. He's talented. I think he'd like DC and then he'd be sent out to different places on assignment."

Mike listened quietly.

Johnson continued, "It's a good deal for a young guy. I know he's been with you for a while and you've done so much for him, but this will take him to the next level of law enforcement. I know you want what's best for him. I can tell."

Mike frowned. "We can talk later. I need to get the arrest going on Sanders," he said. "The warrant is in process, but won't be available until around noon."

After Mike hung up, he said there looking down. _I wouldn't deny Steve any opportunity in the world. But I would very much regret him leaving._ He sighed and sat in silence for several minutes.

Mike looked at the clock and called over to the DA's office to see if the warrant could be expedited. They confirmed that it would be ready at noon and not before. Once he had the document, he grabbed Lessing and drove to Sanders' apartment to make the arrest.

ooooooo

Both Steve and Bradford were anxious as they drove down Highway 101. Steve tried in vain to hide his anxiety. Bradford picked up on it, but assumed that it was nerves over such a large deal.

"Anytime we meet with a supplier like this, Coulter, you know they are extremely dangerous. I want you to know that we are well armed," he said confidently. "In addition to the piece I am wearing, I have a handgun under each seat and a shotgun in the back."

"Are you anticipating trouble?" Steve asked.

"Well, we are riding with a half million dollars. $250k from Wilson and another $250k from the deals we've done over the last two weeks. That would be incentive for anyone to try something."

"True. And when we are riding back, you'll have that much in street heroin plus you get another $250 tonight when we bring the kilos back to Wilson."

"By the way, did you see Hernandez this morning?"

"No. I don't think he came home last night. But he's got some chick of his own he's been 'banging', so I didn't think too much of it," Steve replied.

"You guys and your loose women."

Steve chuckled.

"You've lived with Hernandez for a few weeks. What do you think?"

"Well, I dunno. I've not had too many roommates. I've had cellmates, on the rare occasion, and a few girlfriends, but true roommates? I'm not terribly experienced with that. I guess he's okay. Not friendly and very crude. The image of him screwing his girl on the sofa stark naked and then hitting on my chick at the same time. Not exactly a class act. But seriously, I didn't expect much different. Why?"

"I don't know, Coulter. I got the sense that he isn't exactly a team player for me."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I can't put my finger on it. I'm watching him. He did seem like he changed once Cruz went back to San Quentin and you came on board. I don't think he trusts you."

"Well, that makes it mutual then."

ooooooo

At 12:30pm, Mike and Detective Lessing arrived at Sanders' law firm for the arrest, but to no avail. He had not been seen since the day before. The pair decided to try his apartment, but no one answered. Lessing got the landlord who arrived with the key minutes later. After entering, they searched the apartment and found nothing unusual except for the fact that Sanders was not there.

Mike decided to call Miller at that point because the only other place he could be would be at the warehouse.

ooooooooo

"Louis, Mike here. Hey, I can't find Sanders. I'm thinking that he's at the warehouse, but I wanted to check with you to see if you thought it would be okay to go over there and pick the guy up. It won't conflict with anything you have going there?" Mike said, remembering their initial conversation about Sanders and the warehouse.

"Well, Johnson said that Steve and Bradford were on their way down to Santa Barbara. I see no reason why you can't. You better bring some back-up."

oooooooooo

Steve and Bradford made good time driving down 101. In his mind, Steve was miles ahead thinking through what was going to happen in Santa Barbara. They were near Gaviota and the PCH. Suddenly, Bradford instructed Steve, "Turn up ahead."

Steve was startled from his thoughts. "What? Where?"

"Gaviota Beach Road. The supplier called this morning with a change in location."

"Why did they change?" Steve was annoyed that Bradford didn't inform him of the change until that moment, but understood that Bradford didn't trust anyone.

"The heat was apparently on in Santa Barbara – the supplier wanted to be more remote."

"That's why the talk about how well 'armed' we are," Steve said. "Well, this is a state park along the beach area in the middle of winter. Can't get too much more remote than that."

He turned on to the road as instructed. It was a small lane that cut through a hilly area for about a mile and then down to an even smaller ranch road that was parallel to the ocean. They drove this ranch road for a what seemed like miles.

"I'm told that there's a train trellis and that this road will go around the trellis and converge with another ranch road," Bradford noted. "That's where we'll stop."

"Okay, this doesn't feel right. This is too remote. Are you sure about this? I feel like we're being set up."

"Like I said, these are dangerous meetings and we need to be prepared. Do you have your .38 with you?"

"I do. I was hoping that I wouldn't need to use it though."

_Okay, this is a change of plans. I hope the boys behind us picked up on the fact that we got off 101. They were a bit behind us. Good Lord, what if they are out of range now with the wire. Ting said to assume they are there, but right now I don't think I can make that assumption._

Steve parked the car near where the roads converged. "At the very least, I'm going to turn the 'Vette so we can make a quick getaway if we need to."

"Good thinking."

oooooooooo

At the same time, Mike and Lessing pulled up near the warehouse. They saw Sanders' car there along with another vehicle. Spotting the side door slightly open, Mike nodded over to Lessing to follow him. The back-up cruiser was in place, although at the moment, Mike wasn't sure what to expect. He and Lessing both drew their guns. The two uniformed officers followed suit.

As they opened the door, the first thing they noticed was how quiet and dark it was. The lights were not on and all that could be heard was the ticking of the clock. Mike felt the hair on the back of his neck raise and his stomach churn. Something was not right.

As they searched room to room, they still heard and saw nothing. They worked their way methodically to the back of the building. When they entered one of the rooms in the back, Mike's eyes widened and he paled.

Sitting with his back against the paneling was Sanders. A bullet had entered his forehead and came out the back and into the wall. Blood surrounded the bullet hole and then trailed down to where Sanders was sitting. His jaw was slack and his eyes were open. The grey pallor was unnatural and foreboding.

On the floor next to Sanders was a man they had not seen before. He had been shot in the chest and fallen backwards. Blood pooled in his chest and spilled over the side. Very likely the victim was dead before he hit the ground.

_Two bodies_, Mike thought. _The second one must have been the contraband driver that Steve worked with._

Mike swallowed hard. "This was a professional hit."


	17. Chapter 17

Mike radioed and patched in both Miller and Johnson, making them aware of the situation at the warehouse. With the killings, the three quickly surmised that someone, perhaps even Hernandez, from Chang's group was involved.

"I thought you had Hernandez and Chang's group under surveillance, Johnson." Mike was on the offensive. "Could they have slipped under the radar to do something like this?"

"I had two teams – one at the apartment and one over at Chang's main location. Hernandez went out to the Launch, but we didn't see him leave. According to the team at the apartment, he didn't come home last night. He could be over at Launch still. They had rooms upstairs," Johnson explained.

"Or he could have left the club and gone over to another location. If Hernandez found out about Jackson's statement, he would quickly realize that he's a marked man," Stone responded.

Miller pondered, "If Chang found out that Jackson made a statement, it may be just like we thought. They'd go after Bradford now. I'll check on what's going with the Chang surveillance team. Will call you right back."

Miller radioed back seconds later. "Everything is quiet over at Chang's. It's a ghost town. Our people are saying that there are no signs of them anywhere today. Not at their primary location and not at their known hang outs."

Mike asked, "Do you thinking they slipped out?"

Miller agreed. "No doubt. It's nearly 1:30. Steve and Bradford were supposed to meet up with the supplier at 2pm. They could be going after Bradford and Steve now. We need to catch up with them."

Johnson replied, "Damn it. I just got word. The team tailing Bradford just lost track of the Corvette. They were about a quarter of a mile behind them on 101 near the PCH, and we had a clear wire connection with Steve. Now the car is nowhere in sight and they can't pick up any sound. They are turning back."

Miller was back on the line, "Shit. Are they sure they lost them?"

"Yeah, they sped up a few minutes ago to see if they could catch them and there's no sight of the Corvette. No other place to stop along here either."

Mike's stomach was in knots. "Something is happening. That's still in Santa Barbara County. We should be contacting SBPD and let them know what's going on."

Johnson sensed the urgency, "Okay, here's what we do. Louis, you contact Santa Barbara County PD and advise them of the situation. They should issue an ABP for the Corvette, Bradford and Steve. Keep monitoring what's going on up here and we'll be in touch. Mike, you and I will get a chopper down there and join up with the county PD.

ooooooooo

After waiting for several minutes, a black sedan came down the road toward Bradford and Steve.

"I don't know whether to be relieved or terrified at this point," Steve said dryly.

The sedan pulled up in front of the Corvette and Bradford commented, "Looks like the regular set up. Stay here." Bradford grabbed the briefcase from the trunk and walked over to the sedan.

As he opened the door, his supplier took the money and handed Bradford a different case. "This is yours...for now. I had a call from one of your competitors last night. I understand your operation is in jeopardy. One of your guys is about to go down for a murder. I need a strong distributor for this business. You and Chang will need to duke it out. May the better man win."

Instantly, two vehicles approached as he returned to the Corvette with the briefcase. A van and a white sedan pulled along side the Corvette, blocking it from a quick exit. The black sedan departed.

"Damn it," Steve sighed and looked over to Bradford. "Did you know about this?"

He could see the fear in Bradford's eyes. He already had his answer. Bradford's expression went from fear to horror when he saw the leader of the Chang ring exit from the van and approach the car. "It's Chang," Bradford whispered. "They are going to kill us."

Steve took a deep breath. _Assess the situation, _he thought to himself. _I'm assuming no back up. How can we get out of here? _He began to look around.

"Okay, you and I, we need to stick together on this. Get your piece from under the seat and I'll get the one under mine," Steve looked further at his options. The car was blocked on two sides. The other side was against an incline. Behind them was a ravine. "The only way to go is backward. I can start the car and throw it into reverse. We'll go down a ravine. Hopefully we won't flip or get caught on something. When we get to the bottom, get out of the car and run. I'll grab the rifle behind the seat. Got it?"

"Got it," Bradford nodded.

Steve started the car, threw it into reverse and floored it down the ravine. The area was covered with brush, but very little by way of trees. On their descent, both men could hear the underside being ripped apart and of gunshots. The only good thing was they had gravity on their side and got to the bottom.

The engine was dead and both men were shaken. "We're just lucky we didn't flip over," Bradford commented.

"We're lucky we didn't get our heads blown off. Let's get out of here now!"

Steve and Bradford quickly evacuated the Corvette and took cover. Bradford turned around to retrieve the drugs, but Steve stopped him. "Are you out of your mind? What good is all that going to do you when you have a bullet in your head? Let's go!"

Bradford ran back to the car despite Steve's warning, grabbed the briefcase and then joined Steve as he ran for cover.

_Idiot, _Steve thought to himself.

ooooooooo

Within the half hour, both Mike and Johnson had boarded the police helicopter. Logistically, they were able to meet the helicopter on the rooftop of the local hospital in the city. "It will take us about an hour and a half to get there – assuming your team figures out exactly where 'there' is," Mike shouted loudly over the roar of the chopper.

"Looks like Gaviota. The PD put an APB out for the Corvette in the event they got back on the main road. Our team circled back and are scoping the State Park. It's a fairly large area. A black sedan, similar to what they saw on the first deal was seen heading toward Santa Barbara coming from the vicinity."

_My God, _Mike thought, _if that's the supplier and they are already on their way back, chances are we are too late._


	18. Chapter 18

"We're like fish in a barrel," Steve said. "We have to get out of this ravine and go for higher ground." The pair could see Chang's group descend the slope heavily armed. "I see four coming down. There are three others up top."

_Seven to two odds. Terrific, _he thought to himself.

Bradford had found a spot behind some brush and opened fire. One man went down. _Six to two._ The other three scrambled for cover. Shots were being fired toward both men. The extra weapons they took could end up being lifesavers.

Steve put the rifle aside – _not enough ammo. I'll save that for later. Hopefully there is a 'later'. _

He looked over and saw a path that seemed to cut behind some large rocks and an incline.

"Bradford! Over there – you run for it and I'll cover you."

Bradford looked and nodded. Steve pulled out his .38 and took aim where the three men were hiding as Bradford ran to the area behind the rocks. Steve realized that he had put a lot of trust in the other man at that point. He could run and not turn back. _But he's the real target here. I think he knows that._

Sure enough, Bradford turned around and yelled, "Now you – I'll cover!" Steve ran and took aim at the brush as he made his way to the rocks.

As he got settled in, Steve said, "We've got cover now. We just need to hold them off."

"Until when?" Bradford asked. "We're just putting off the inevitable."

"You don't know that. Shots have been fired. Somebody may have heard and called it in. Cops could be on their way."

"And you think that's a good thing?"

"Better than going down with these guys, yeah."

"We need to even these odds up," Bradford said. He took a shot at one of the three that were making their way across the ravine.

"Five to two," Steve said quietly. One of the others threw himself behind the Corvette and opened fire. Both Steve and Bradford ducked down. Steve shot back but missed.

An idea quickly crossed Steve's mind: _I can hit the gas tank. Perhaps I can start a fire and someone will see the smoke. _Steve took aim, missing the first time. He found success the second time.

"What the hell are you doing? That's my car!"

"Hopefully we'll draw some attention, or create a diversion at least, and then we can get the hell out of here."

The fire did just that. Steve could hear yelling up the ravine and the look of surprise from the two surviving men that were near the car. The heat drove them back to the brush.

"Come on, let's go!" Steve said as they followed the path behind the rocks.

oooooo

"How much farther?" Mike asked impatiently.

"Another half hour or so. Let's see if the radio in this thing can reach the team on the ground to hear if they've found any trace of them."

Minutes later, an officer from the team tailing Steve and Bradford came on the line.

"We're in Gaviota State Park. Santa Barbara PD have joined us. We have two units tracking with a third one in transit. No sign of the Corvette yet."

A few minutes later, "There's a report of smoke near one of the coastal roads. We're heading over."

Johnson asked the pilot, "Can you follow the coast line when we get closer to Gaviota? And look out for smoke."

oooooo

The path behind the rocks led them up and out of the ravine. The men heard shouting behind them. The two men at the bottom of the slope found their pathway and started following. Bradford and Steve were running – Bradford with a holstered gun and one in his hand. The other hand carried the briefcase. Steve was holding his .38 and had placed the other pistol in his holster. He carried the rifle in his other hand.

They stopped as they got to the top of the hill to get their bearings. Before them, they could see the expanse of the ocean. Between them and the ocean were train tracks and what could barely function a passable road. Across the road, they could see an outcropping of rocks. On the other side of the rocks was presumably a dropoff into the ocean. Farther down the 'road' was an open clearing.

"I really don't want to be pushed into the ocean, but we'll be sitting ducks out on the road or in the clearing. If we turn back, we'll run right into them," Steve said, weighing out their options.

"Let's go over to the rocks. We can at least hold them off. I don't know how we are going to get out of here though. Maybe there's a beach or something on the other side."

The men made a dash across the road and over to the outcropping. Steve saw that they could climb a short distance up and have a good view of what was coming.

By the time they were secure in their spot, they could see the van and white sedan come down the narrow road. The two others appeared from the path coming out of the ravine area and pointed to the rocks. Both vehicles stopped.

_Damn it. Maybe all we did was buy time but for no other reason than to delay the inevitable. Where are the back-ups?_

ooooooo

Mike and Johnson heard the update, "We have found the Corvette at the bottom of a ravine. It's been burned out. We're going down to check if anyone is down there. Santa Barbara PD is patrolling the area. We've not seen any other vehicles."

The implication made Mike swallow hard. Could their bodies be in the burning Corvette?

"Where are you?" Johnson inquired of the contact.

"We can confirm that we're inside Gaviota State Park a few miles north of the highway near the coast line."

"Okay, let's keep following down the coast and see what we come up with. We're just minutes away. Pilot, can you drop the elevation?"

The pilot nodded.

oooooooo

Steve surveyed what was before him. Two men were attempting to cross the road in front of him. Three other men exited from the two vehicles, all heavily armed. He squinted to see a familiar face.

"Hernandez."

"What?" Bradford asked.

"Look." Steve paused for a moment. "Bradford, it's still five vs. two and our back is to the ocean. We're down to one gun each and this rifle with two shells. If we are to get out of this alive, you know what we need to do."

An image of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid entered into Steve's mind. He smiled oddly at the thought. _I'm not sure if Bradford is really cut out to be Butch Cassidy. He's still drug dealing scum, but the courts should be the ones deciding his fate. Not them and not me._

Both men raised their guns and began firing. The Chang group scattered for cover and began returning fire. One more went down. _Four to two. Okay, odds I can live with._

But now they were out of ammunition and nearly out of time.

They saw Hernandez and one of the senior Chang ring members. The third man had positioned himself from a higher level and was aiming his sites at the pair. This was trouble. More trouble came when they lost sight of the fourth man.

ooooooo

Out of nowhere, the fourth man came at the from behind the rocks.

"What the hell?" Bradford cried out as he fell forward.

While Bradford fell, Steve grabbed the rifle and knocked the attacker over. Steve recognized him as one of the pair involved in the knife attack weeks earlier. Looking down at the attacker, Steve remarked, "Did you bring a knife to a gunfight again?"

The attacker grabbed the rifle. They fought over the gun as they tried not to tumble over the side. The attacker had both hands on the rifle as did Steve. With Steve in his sites, the third man took aim from the rocks. Steve felt a sting on his arm and jerked back still holding the gun. A second shot quickly rang out. This time, Steve felt a jerking motion in front of him. The attacker toppled over the side.

Steve grabbed the rifle, spun, took aim and fired. The third man fell from the rocks.

oooooooo

"Gunfire. We hear gunfire. Lots of it." was transmitted on the radio. Mike and Johnson looked at each other. _Maybe they are alive._

As the helicopter made its way down the coast, they came across the small network of roads that made up Gaviota. Still some distance away and only visible through binoculars, they could see parked vehicles and the second police cruiser still a distance away. Next, Mike strained but could see two men hidden behind boulders in the outcropping.

"There they are!" Mike cried as he watched Steve and Bradford return fire.

Johnson grabbed the binoculars and observed, "Steve just blew a guy away with a rifle. Damn!"

Mike glared in annoyance.

The pilot announced, "I can land in a clearing up behind the ridge. We'll have the cruiser pick you up. It's close by. You can get to your men quickest with the cruiser."

ooooooooo

Hernandez stood next to the fallen Bradford. He pulled him up by the arm and took the briefcase away. Steve was just a few feet away.

"You son-of-a-bitch! You crossed me," Bradford said defiantly to Hernandez.

"Now we'll take over the supply. You are done, Bradford. We cleaned out your warehouse last night. We have all your records. Sanders and your other driver are dead. Your new boy here will take the fall for all of it. The story will be that he wanted the line for him and his partner out of Chicago. He drove you down here, tried to kill you and take the drugs. You both shot each other and he fell from the cliff. Time to say 'good-bye', Bradford."

Steve yelled, 'No!' and pulled up the rifle and aimed at Hernandez's chest. It was his last round. He pulled the trigger and Hernandez fell backward. The hit was close range. Blood sprayed on both men, while Bradford scrambled again for the briefcase.

ooooooooo

Giap Chang stepped forward. "You are out of ammunition and I am out of patience. Mr. Bradford, it's time we transfer power. Please hand over the briefcase."

"NO! You'll have to take it from me."

Steve could hear the sirens from two police cruisers. _Finally!_

"It's all over now, Chang. Give it up," Steve said.

Bradford looked at Steve. He could see the relief on Steve's face. It all came together.

"You're a cop?"

Steve looked down and then over at Bradford. "Yeah."

"Damn you," Bradford said quietly.

Chang went on, "You are a poor judge of character, my friend. Now, give me the briefcase."

"You'll never make it out of here," Steve advised.

"Don't ever doubt me," Chang said as he raised his gun. "I've got a boat down at the beach waiting for me. By the time your cop buddies get down here, I'll be on my way."

He pointed his gun at Bradford and shot. Steve ran over to stop him from falling off the outcropping. It was at least 80 feet down to the shallow water and rocks.

As Bradford reached out to the young officer, Steve grabbed his arm. Steve felt the ground go out from under him as he lost his footing. He tried to throw his body forward to stop himself from falling over as well. He managed to slam his midsection against the edge of the outcropping, knocking the wind out of him. He still hung onto Bradford.

As Mike, Johnson and the other officers ran up the road, they could see the pair fall over the side.

"Steve!"


	19. Chapter 19

Briefcase in hand, Chang made it quickly to the other side of the outcropping. There, he had a clear path away from the pursuing officers.

"After him!" commanded Stone to the Santa Barbara County Police. Chang had a head start and was still armed. The narrow road was in the open and made him a target. However, they could see a boat coming along the shore. Chang made a break for it.

Concerned for Steve, Mike and Johnson ran to the spot where Bradford and the young detective fell. They stepped over Hernandez's body and peered over the cliff.

Bradford's body was lying face up in the wake. _Dear God, _Mike thought. He looked to see if he could find Steve's body nearby. It became harder to see as his eyes began to water.

"Chuck," Mike whispered and pulled out a handkerchief. "I don't see Steve. Do you see anything?"

"No, nothing."

ooooooooo

His breathing was hard and painful. He tried to shout out, but was only able to produce a very weak gasp which was completely overtaken by the sound of the ocean below.

When he fell, he grabbed a stalk of brush with his free arm. The stalk was protruding from the side the cliff, just below the edge where he had hit his midsection. With the combined weight of himself and Bradford, he felt his shoulder come out of its socket as he held tightly to the brush.

He screamed in pain and lost his grip on Bradford. Bradford was already limp and fell, tumbling to the rocks and water below.

Steve knew that he couldn't hold on with his limp arm and quickly swung his other arm to grab onto the stalk. He tried to brace his feet against the cliff wall. The uneveness of the rocks gave him the footing he prayed for. With that, he managed to stabilize himself against the cliffside.

He tried once again to shout out. He could hear Mike and Johnson. As he held on to the brush with all of his strength, the tightening in his chest became unbearable. His breathing more labored. He tried once more to cry out.

oooooooo

"Wait. What's that? I hear something...listen," Johnson said.

"What is it?"

"A moan or a cry. It might be Steve."

They looked immediately down, trying to see if Steve had been caught by brush or a jagged rock. They surveyed from side to side and tried to see all angles by moving up and down the cliff. Finally, over to the side at a very odd angle, they saw something. It was a hand hanging on to brush about five feet down from the edge.

"Get a rope from the cruiser!," Mike yelled to one of the officers.

Johnson yelled, "Steve! We're here and we see you! We're going to throw a rope. We'll have it looped at the bottom. Grab it with your arms or try to loop your leg through!"

Neither man could see Steve's face – only his hand.

Mike grabbed the rope, but fumbled with the knot. "I got it Mike," Johnson said as he tied the rope into a sturdy lasso.

"Buddy boy, hang on!" Steve heard Mike's command and rolled his eyes slightly. _Believe me, I'm trying_, he thought.

Steve could see the line as they tossed it down. He couldn't risk letting go of the brush and his other arm was completely useless. He moved his foot over and tried to cast it through the loop. Mike and Johnson could feel the rope moving. Unable to see what Steve was doing, they didn't know what more to do.

Finally, Steve got his foot through and he began to shift his weight onto the rope. He felt himself slide down further, but at that point Mike and Johnson began pulling him up. As he was lifted, he let go of the brush and grabbed the rope with his good arm.

It took only a minute to pull him up and over. Mike grabbed him and dragged him far from the edge.

Steve collapsed on his back, breathing hard.

"Buddy boy…" he didn't know what more to say.

Steve tried to sit up. "I'm okay, Mike. It's over. Did they get Chang?" He was breathing heavily and grabbed his ribs.

"Looks like they may still be in pursuit."

"Bradford. He's dead, isn't he?" His voice strained.

"Yes," Johnson replied.

"His last words to me were 'Damn you'." Steve couldn't say much more.

"Are you hurt?"

"Yeah, my shoulder. I think I may have dislocated it. I may have cracked a rib or two when I fell." He was still breathing heavily.

"You're covered in blood. Are you hit?"

"Most of it was Hernandez. He was too close when I fired. It was terrible."

"What about your arm?"

"What?"

"You're bleeding. I can see a rip in your clothes."

"There was a gunshot earlier. It didn't get me too bad, but it was close. Can we go home?"

"Home? Not yet. We need to get you to a hospital. Can you make it to the car or do you want us to get an ambulance?"

"Car."

Johnson yelled out to a nearby officer, ""We need a cruiser!"

"Santa Barbara is the closest hospital," he commented to Mike.

The older detectives stood Steve up and kept hold of him as he became steadier on his feet. With his good arm, the young man gingerly reached around and held his other arm, trying to provide some immobilization to his injured shoulder. He took a few steps forward, but began to sway.

"Mike...," Johnson warned as he saw Steve go pale.

Steve staggered. "Don't think I can make..." he said as his knees buckled. Mike grabbed him as he dropped to the ground.


	20. Chapter 20

Steve woke up in a daze. His vision wasn't terribly clear and he felt disoriented.

He looked around the room. It was a small bedroom with a clean tan color and minimal decoration. He tried to pick out something that he recognized, but still wasn't able to tell where he was. He realized his movement was limited when he saw the bandages wrapped around his shoulder and chest.

He lay back for awhile and began to have vague memories of what had happened - running through a forest and the adrenalin rush as if someone was trying to catch him. There was a fall and subsequent pain.

It was coming back to him. There was a ride to the hospital in the back of a squad car. He was wedged between Mike and Johnson, both holding on to him so he wouldn't fall over and do further damage. He woke up briefly and Mike started talking to him.

"You did great, Buddy-boy. Now we're going to get you fixed up. Hang on. We'll be there in no time," his partner said as the cruiser was speeding toward Santa Barbara.

"Not so great. I fell off a cliff." He mumbled and with that, he had passed out again.

The hospital visit was a blur. He barely remembered being in the emergency room, but did remember the pain when the technician took x-rays of his shoulder and ribs. Mike sat with him after his shoulder was set and his ribs were wrapped. The pain medication kept him asleep for most of that time.

He remembered being driven back to San Francisco and helped up quite a few stairs. It was an endless climb, but he remembered being supported up the steps. Very heavily supported - practically carried by two sets of strong arms.

He remembered hearing voices that made him feel comfortable and safe; a feeling that had abandoned him in recent weeks.

He looked down at himself on the bed. All he could see were the bandages. He lifted the blankets to see what he had on underneath and found himself in a pair of pajama bottoms. He looked further down the bed and saw a blue robe. Neither were his.

Remembering what had happened, but still not quite sure where he was, Steve lifted the blankets and swung his legs over the side. He took a few minutes to get his bearings. He felt a little dizzy, but it passed enough for him to stand. He grabbed the robe and wrapped it around himself awkwardly. He couldn't get it over the shoulder completely, but could at least wrap the robe around himself and tie the belt.

He got up and slowly crept toward the door. The pajama bottoms were a little too long, so he had to awkwardly pull them up with one arm or risk tripping. He could hear a couple of voices and decided to take a peek.

Mike and Jeannie heard the door open and met Steve with raised eyebrows and smiles. A stunned look with squinted eyes and disheveled hair was their reward.

"Well, good afternoon, Buddy boy! Good to see you up."

"This is your place." It wasn't exactly a statement, but it was expressed in a way that left some room for doubt.

Mike chuckled. "Yeah, you are back home. How do you feel?"

"I don't know," was the honest answer. "Confused." He glanced back to the room. "I'm not sure if I've ever been in your spare room before."

"You should sit down," Jeannie said. "You still looked pretty drained." He complied without argument. "I'll get you some water, babe."

"When did we get back?"

"Almost two days ago. You were in the hospital for a day. Johnson and I drove you back to the city. I think we got back fairly late on New Years Eve. You couldn't stay awake, so we got you to bed. You slept all day yesterday and well, I guess all morning and part of the afternoon today by the looks of it. Happy New Year, by the way."

"So, it's January?"

"All month long."

"Weird. Ummm…Happy New Year to you too."

oooooooo

Steve stayed with Mike and Jeannie for the next several days. They observed that he had lost weight during his time away. Given his slim build to start, Jeannie was motivated to make a variety of delicious meals and baked goodies. He rested, ate well and watched an enormous amount of football in the evenings when Mike was home.

He occasionally saw visitors and well wishers who wanted to make sure he was on the road to recovery.

Outside of providing statements to a variety of police and DEA personnel, he spoke very little about the undercover assignment to Mike. That worried the older detective.

Mike or Jeannie made sure that he got to his doctor appointments. Mike also arranged with Lenny Murchison, the departmental psychiatrist, to visit Steve. He wanted to make sure that the young man was coping well for all that he went through. Mike realized that the road home after an undercover assignment could be as tough mentally and emotionally than any physical injury.

It was after Lenny's visit that Steve opened up to Mike.

Mike sat down on the sofa and turned on the TV set. He started to flip the channels for a movie and found "Hondo" on the local channel.

"Mike," Steve said as he squirmed in the nearby recliner. "I haven't thanked you for everything you've done for me since I came back. You and Jeannie have made things much easier for me. I appreciate that. I've probably gained every pound back, if not more, with Jeannie's wonderful cooking."

"Well, Buddy-boy, that's what partners are for. How are you doing? Is your shoulder feeling okay? How about the ribs? You know, we took a chance in carrying you to the car like that. I realize now we could have punctured a lung by moving you with those broken ribs."

"I'm fine. Really, the pain isn't too bad. It's healing."

Mike sat silent for a couple of minutes. Finally, he worked up the courage to ask what he really wanted to know.

"Steve, you haven't said much since you came home. A lot happened out there, especially at Gaviota. Are you okay?"

He sighed. "We had a lot of people die in this case. The only one of the five left alive in Bradford's group is Cruz."

"He'll be in prison for a very long time."

"Yeah…and then there was Chang's men." Steve's voice trailed off.

"Not all of them died. Of the six that were injured, only three of the injuries were fatal."

"When Johnson and Miller came by to take my statements, they told me about Chang being caught."

"Yeah, the Santa Barbara PD got him."

"Johnson said that they weren't able to do much with the supplier in LA, so he'll be going back down there to continue to work on that."

They still weren't hitting on what Mike wanted to know. So he decided to try again.

"You said to me when we got you off the cliff that Bradford's last words to you were "Damn you." That seemed to bother you then. Is there something you want to talk about?"

Steve shrugged. He wasn't sure if he wanted to talk more, but then he began. "The guy dealt drugs. Very powerful and lethal drugs. He had one purpose and that was to make money and become a powerful drug lord. That alone should have made me hate him. But I didn't. Deep down, it seemed like he wasn't entirely bad."

Steve continued as Mike listened. "After I backed the car down the ravine, we both jumped out and fled for safety. But we needed to get farther away. I told him to run and I'd cover him. That could have been a fatal mistake on my part. He could have let me wage the battle with Chang's guys long enough for him to get away."

"Mike, he didn't do that. Instead, he yelled for me to run and he provided the cover." Steve sighed for a moment.

"Would you have rather he didn't?"

"No. It's not that. It's just makes me wonder what would have happened to him if he'd chosen a different path."

"I heard he was a third generation criminal. His grandfather was in Alcatraz, you know."

"Yeah, he told me. That's no excuse though. He could have chosen differently with his life."

Mike replied, "Sometimes you only do what you know."

"I asked him about that and he said he was a product of his environment. The life his grandfather and dad showed him was all he knew." Steve paused and whispered. "That's bullshit, you know. Absolute bullshit."

"What do you mean?"

"If everyone did that…you know, if everyone used their environment or their bad parents or whatever the hell the excuse is...," Steve's voice grew louder and then he stopped. "We'd all be in a world of hurt, wouldn't we? But people do overcome…. A relative of mine once said, "Everyone has their bag of rocks." I guess some people choose to carry that bag their entire lives."

_Okay, this is no longer about Bradford overcoming his obstacles. It is about you. And one of these days, kiddo, you will have to tell me about your bag of rocks,_ Mike thought to himself.

Steve stopped for a while and reflected on what he said.

"Anyway, I think that's what got me about Bradford. A smart guy and apparently the ability to do good. And for all of that, I got the feeling in the end that I was the one that disappointed him. He trusted me and when he found out I was a cop that was a breech to him."

"And that matters to you? The fact that you disappointed this guy who was dealing drugs?"

"No, the fact that I disappointed a guy that I was able to see some good in. I wouldn't have given a shit if it was Hernandez or Sanders, you know? My God, I'm really messed up, aren't I? But you're pretty good. Lenny wasn't able to get nearly this much out of me."

"Well, he just opened the door a crack. But I'll tell you one thing."

"What?" Steve asked somewhat sadly.

"The last words of Bradford may have been "Damn you". But his last action was reaching out for you when he was about to fall. That was his last action. And you grabbed him. That was what he went to his grave with – knowing that someone tried to hang on."

Steve sat silently. "I didn't think about that. As a matter of fact, I had forgotten that. Thanks," he whispered.

"Anytime, Buddy-boy. Anytime." And with that, Mike reached over, slapped Steve's knee and then turned to face "Hondo". "Now let's watch the Duke teach that kid how to swim."


	21. EPILOGUE

Steve didn't want to be a burden. He figured he would be well enough to either return home to his own apartment or to his sister's when Jeannie went back to college that weekend. That would leave him another three weeks for recovery.

Mike was hesitant for him to leave, but thought that going to Tahoe, especially, would be a nice mental break for him. He could find a doctor and physical therapist there.

ooooooo

A few days later, Jeannie returned to Arizona. The next day, Steve was ready to head over to his sister's.

"It will be great to meet her," Mike said. "She's been worried about you. She called me several times to check on you. I didn't want to worry her too much when you got back, so I am glad you called her. I'm sure she still wasn't happy to hear about your shoulder and ribs."

"No, and I'm sure I'll hear about it the whole time I am there," Steve said dryly.

"I know you are leaving in an hour. I hope it is okay, but I did invite someone over here to see you before she picks you up."

"Oh?"

"I see the woman I invited pulling up. Just wait a minute until she gets up here."

Steve sat down on the sofa and was curious to find out who the visitor was. It was a 'woman' which was generally a good sign.

Mike unlocked to door. Steve heard a friendly voice, but couldn't quite place it.

"Oh, young man - there you are. Look at your shoulder all wrapped up. I am so sorry you were injured, but I do want to thank you for what you did."

It was Margaret Temple.

"Miss Temple, ma'am, it is so good to see you."

"I brought cookies."

"Those really good ones you made the first time I saw you?" said a voice that sounded like it came from a young child.

"Yes, dear - the very same recipe."

Mike deadpanned, "I guess I could get some milk."

For the next hour, Miss Temple visited with Steve and Mike - talking about the case, her church and how grateful she was that Steve was okay. "Artie wasn't such a bad boy. He just got in with a bad crowd. I know he regretted the very day he met with that Caleb Sanders."

As she bid her farewell, she said, "When you are recovered and you are settled back at work, I'd like for you and the Lieutenant here to come over to my house for dinner. I would so appreciate that."

"Ma'am, we would too. Thank you very much and I'll call you when I get back."

She kissed him on the cheek and said good-bye.

Mike paused for a moment as he closed the door behind him. "You _are_ coming back, then?"

_Now what is this about? _Steve thought.

"What do you mean? Of course I'm coming back."

"I wasn't sure. I mean I know that Chuck Johnson wants you with him at the DEA."

"Oh," Steve said quietly. "Yeah. He came to see me a couple of times while you were at work."

"It's a great opportunity for you. I mean, you'd be at the Federal level. The whole country would be your territory. Really, the whole world. You are good. You are very good. I could understand why that would appeal to a young man such as yourself. I would never want to hold you back," Mike said all at once.

Steve was puzzled. "Do you want me to go?"

"No, of course not. I'd be very happy if you were to stay. But, Buddy boy…Steve…I just want what's best for you."

"Do you think the DEA is best for me?"

"I can't answer that. It's up for you to decide."

"Well, good. Because I did. Decide."

Mike tried not to look sad, but failed. "So you are going then?"

"I am going…to stay." He paused for a second to find the right words. "Mike, you need to understand something. The reason I do what I do here is because of people like Miss Temple. She's an innocent victim.

You know, on the one hand I meet way too many innocent victims. But on the other hand, she's what it's all about. Doing what _we_ did gave her some justice.

I'm sure at some point the DEA will be a good option for me, but working as I did, it was an operation. It was all about becoming someone else and working through something that was situational. In Homicide, I get to try to figure out the case, but more than that, I talk to the victims. I'm just much more connected and that's so important to me.

And besides, I'm not through learning from you. You're the one that taught me all of this. You taught me how to be compassionate and to understand that everyone deserves justice. I'm not ready to quit being your student."

Mike could feel the lump in his throat. He was silent. Steve wasn't sure if he'd said something wrong,

"Didn't mean to leave you speechless with what I said," Steve cracked. "You are okay with this, right?"

"Absolutely. I…I couldn't be prouder. Thank you."

Just at that moment, there was a knock on the door.

"Ah," Steve said. "My ride. Probably just as well. Getting a bit too emotional here," he grinned as he spoke.

Mike could do nothing more than nod his head.

Steve opened the door.

"Ting!" Mike exclaimed.

"Well, that got you to speak. Yes, it's Ting," Steve smirked.

"Hello, Mike," she said as she gave Steve a kiss.

"I was expecting your sister," Mike said to Steve.

"Ting is my ride to Tahoe. She had some days coming, and we decided to spend some time together."

"I thought…I thought she was…," Mike looked at Ting. "Aren't you married?"

"Ha!" Steve responded. "That's part of her cover. Her cover is that she's a married woman who is undercover, but in real life she's single."

"I do that to discourage relationships while I'm on the job. Now that I'm off the job and Steve and I aren't technically coworkers anymore, we thought we'd go have a little fun."

Mike was over the shock of Steve's words earlier and excited that he would be coming back. "Well, Buddy boy, you are something. Okay, you two have fun. And I'll see you in three weeks. You'd better be working that shoulder after you get the okay from your doctor. I don't need you being stiff and sore. And no lollygagging when you get back."

Ting grabbed Steve's bag and they walked out the door. Steve turned around and smiled. "Bye, Mike. See you at the end of the month! Take care."

"You too, Buddy boy, you too."

finis


End file.
